Operation: AUSTRALIA
by J silence Quill
Summary: Sector V is invited to spend the summer in Australia with Wally's uncle, but is it really a vacation? (Chapter Seven) Kuki rescues Wally from the fire, but was it really an accident?
1. Phone Call From the Rellie

**Disclaimer**: KND is not mine. Nope.

**A/N**: Okay, taking a momentarily break from Operation: FANFICTION while waiting for some suggestions for the next chappie, I had an interesting idea so bear with me. It all started at the kitchen table when my sister asked me " If 'I Can't Believe It's Not Butter' isn't butter, then what is it?" Well, being the evil elder sister, I decided to pull her leg and told her it was made of dingo. This launched her idea of "I Can't Believe It's Not Dingo", an "original" title for Australian barbeque sauce....Like I said, bear with me.

Well, don't worry because this doesn't have anything to do with that. But I did give a shot at writing in accents (with which I failed miserably at) and incorporating Australian slang, so catch my mistakes aplenty. Enjoy!

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Operation: AUSTRALIA 

**A**ussie's

**U**ncle

**S**uddenly

**T**akes

**R**eally

**A**nnoyed

**L**arrikin

**I**nto

**A**ustralia

"Aw, ma! It's summer vacation! Just foive more minutes!"

"Sorry, but no cahn do, Wallabee. Summer or not, you've got ya chores ta do. So stop wasting time an' get to 'em, ye hear meh?" The tall woman declared as she rapped on the closed wooden door while running her hand through her messy blonde hair. "Ah don' have all day ye know!"

Silence. Then, as if on cue a loud 'thud' sounded from behind the door. The woman shook her head. "There ya go again, fallin' outta that bed 'o yours. I told ya that it's too big for ya. Buying a bigger bed won't make you taller, ya know. One of these days you're going to 'urt yourself." She leaned up against the wall and studied the tattered wrestling poster taped up on the back of the door with mild interest. After a moment the door opened to reveal a short bedraggled boy in orange pajamas.

"Wot's the big deal anyways? It's just a bunch of stupid chores!" He griped as he tried to flatten his messy pudding bowl hair.

His mother raised a slender eyebrow. "Just a bunch of stupid chores, eh? Well, ah'll 'ave you know that if you don't get those 'stupid chores' done within the 'owa, Ah'm not goin' ta let you do anything this summa'. You understand?" She paused and crossed her arms, a sly grin creeping across her face. "'An if you don' do those chores, Ah might not let you go out an' see your friends either. They came by earliah looking for ya. Ya know, the chubby one? Cute little bloke."

"Did they say what they wanted?" Wally asked curiously. It wasn't often Number Two personally paid him a visit to his house, especially on a weekend. His mother answered with an impish shrug. "Well, don't just stand there! Ah've got me some chores ta do!" He declared and ran over to the broom closet across the hall. With a hasty whip of the door handle, he began to rummage through the cleaning supplies until he came up with a bottle of spray solvent and a dust cloth.

"Yeah, that's great 'an all, but don't ya think ya should change first?" His mother asked as she began to walk down the hall. "Don't want ta be in your jammies when ya go to see ya friends, do ya?" She sighed in amusement and rolled up her sleeves. "Well, jus' be sure to eat your brekkie before ya leave, okay? I'm making bacon; your favorite."

Wally looked down at his footsie pajamas in embarrassment. "Ah, yeah. Sure'm." He shuffled back into his room only to reappear moments later in the doorway, fully dressed and fully prepared to do some major cleaning. "Ah hate cleaning the stupid house," he grumbled as he reluctantly shuffled into the dining room. "But if Numbah Two's lookin' for me, it must be sumthin' important." With newfound resolve he began to vigorously dust the curio cabinet. He moved on to dust the windowsill when suddenly he found himself staring not at his own reflection, but someone else's face!

"Number Four! Open up! I've got great news!" It was Number Two; standing atop a loose flowerpot in the garden. He impatiently rapped on the windowpane and waved his arms wildly as he lost his balance and toppled into the begonia bush.

"Numbah Two? Wot ah you doin' here?" Number Four asked as he unlatched the window and pushed up the screen. "Is it a message from Numbah One?"

Number Two climbed back on the flowerpot and brushed off the soil and fertilizer from his goggles. "Even better! You'll never guess what I just got!"

Just then a phone rang from the kitchen, abruptly interrupting their conversation, followed by, "Wally! Telephone!"

Number Four shrugged in reply. "You'll 'ave ta hold on a minute, me mom's callin'." Number Two began to answer, but fell off the flowerpot again. Number Four shook his head and sauntered into the kitchen. "Yeah mom?"

His mother held out a tasteless red telephone away from her ear. "It's your uncle. He wants to talk to ya," she replied with a smile and returned to the bacon over the stove.

A large grin broke across his face. "Uncle Skip?! I wonder wot he wants," he remarked to himself as he accepted the phone from his mother and held it up to his ear. "'Ello?' Uncle Skip?"

"'Ey, there, buggerlugs! How's it goin'?" came a jovially tinny voice heavily dripping with an Australian accent from the other end of the receiver. Number Four flinched--he'd forgotten how strong his uncle's accent was.

Wally groaned. "How many toimes do ah have to tell ya not ta call me 'buggerlugs', Uncle Skip?!

Uncle Skip didn't seem to notice Wally's obvious dislike of the bizarre pet name and continued. "Ah was wondering, how's about you come an' visit me for the summa'? Ah neva get ta see you anymore since you've moved to America."

Wally froze. The last time he traveled to Australia to visit his uncle over the summer was back when he had been only living in the states for a while. All he did was sit on the front porch and watch his uncle's cattle; hardly what he considered to be an enjoyable summer vacation. "But Uncle Skip, Ah can't just come visit ya! The summa's barely started and...well, ya know I'm just comfortable here," he protested, grasping at straws for any plausible reason to avoid the trip.

"Comfortable? You've been spending too much time with those Yank mates 'o yours. You need to get out more." The voice paused for a moment. "'Ey, ah know! How's about you invite all 'o your other mates here with you? Ah'm sure they'd love to see Australia first-hand. Besides, mah ranch is big enough."

Wally was about to protest again when the reality of his Uncle's offer began to sink in. Invite his friends? To Australia? That in itself was a big enough suggestion. But it was a thought....

Uncle Skip continued, oblivious to Wally's contemplative pause. "I just got your last letter about a month ago, they sound loike a great bunch a kids. You still friends with that Rainbow Monkey-loving Sheila? I bet she'd enjoy seein' some of the critters around here, from what you wrote."

Wally felt something unpleasant lurch in his stomach. Writing about Kuki was one thing, but hearing his uncle talk about the topic didn't seem right. "Yeah, I bet she'd really love seeing the animals," he found himself saying absentmindedly as he raked through his brain for a more convincing form of protest.

An uncomfortable pause followed, almost as though Uncle Skip was nodding in agreement on the other line. "So, it's decided? Great, Ah'll pick you up at the airport on Saturday, the 10th, how's 'at sound?"

"Huh?" Wally blinked, regaining his focus. "Wait a sec, you can't just—"

"Hey, she'll be apples, okay?"

"Apples? But—"

"I knew you'd understand, Wally, you old buggerlugs. See ya then, mate," Uncle Skip replied and hung up with a click.

"Man, these begonias are a real pain," Number Two mused to himself as he plucked a couple of the wilted flowers off his hat after falling off the flowerpot for the umpteenth time. He impatiently drummed his fingers on the windowsill while waiting for Number Four to finish with his phone call.

"Hey, Hoagie," Wally called as he walked back into the dining room.

Number Two flicked a pink begonia petal off his shoulder. "What took you?"

"Ah just had ta talk with me uncle. Ya know, family stuff."

Number Two nodded understandingly. "You're never going to believe this—guess what I found today at the thrift shop? They were selling the first edition Yipper Holiday Special comic book issue! So naturally I bought it! Dude, what a steal!" Hoagie exclaimed enthusiastically. "Did you want to come over to the tree house? I can show you, and besides, I think we all need a break after the school year, especially Number One. The poor guy's been working himself to death."

"I've got something even better," Number Four grinned as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his orange hoodie. "How'd ya loike to take a trip to Australia?"

_To be Continued..._

_

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_**A/N**: Hey, I warned you, I'm terrible with accents. However, I'm planning on turning this into a fluffy-pairings sorta story, but since I've never written one before it might not turn out too well. I've also never written in accents before, so you'll have to pardon that as well. I felt it was appropriate to maintain the Australian accent for Wally and Uncle Skip, considering they're going to be the main focal point of the story. Please, oh PLEASE leave me a review with comments, advice, etc. I'm really hoping that this story is successful, but it's just so pathetic. I've put the people of Australia to shame. (sniffle) 


	2. His Nibbs' Keen as Mustard

**Disclaimer**: KND belongs to Mr. Warburton. Not me. If it did, why would I be writing fanfiction?

**A/N**: Yes, I'm still working on laying out the plot for Operation: FANFICTION, so here's chapter two. Actually, this was originally the first chapter, (which is why it's ready so quickly) but I didn't like how it was going so I wrote the other one after this one. Thank you so much for your reviews--I'm trying my best to handle the accents, but I'm actually having a harder time with the slang terms more than anything. If there's anything you don't understand, feel free to ask and I shall answer. (Or try...)

* * *

Operation: AUSTRALIA

**Chapter Two**:

"His Nibbs' Keen as Mustard With the Plans"

_(The Boss is Enthusiastic About the Plans)_

Yeah, so creative, I know...

"I'm not sure...this is rather sudden."

"Aw, don't be such a spoil-sport, Numbuh One! I think it's about time you had yo' self a vacation."

"Pleeeeese, Number One?! Please?! Please?! Pretty-prettyfull _please_?!"

Nigel paused and considered the option for a moment, ignoring the inquisitive stares from Number Five and the hyperactive questioning from Number Three. He furrowed his thin brow and began to pace around the large purple couch in the KND recreation room. (Is it purple? I dunno, it seems to change each episode.) True, a vacation did sound tempting, but to Australia? It didn't take a genius to realize that being an island, Australia was probably riddled with numerous beaches—beaches he'd be forced to visit and waste his precious time at. But there was one nagging question in the back of his bald cranium... "Number Four," he stopped pacing and stood with his hands behind his back. "Are you aware of any Kids Next Door stations near your uncle's location?"

"Eh? Well..." Wally looked up from Number Two's new Yipper comic in thought and sipped on his soda. "Yeah, now that ya mention it, I think there's one that's only a few miles from his ranch. Ah'm not sure exactly where though 'cos I never saw it meself, but ah'm pretty sure it's there."

"It's decided then," Number One replied as he rocked back and forth on the soles of his feet. "Number Four, I grant the approval of your trip. However, I think it would be best for us to contact the Australian Kids Next Door sector upon our arrival. In the meantime, we should focus on obtaining passports for ourselves as well as packing our essential belongings."

"Passports?" Number Two asked, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the Yipper comic. "What do we need passports for? I could just fly us there."

"True, but it's quite a ways off and to be honest, I don't want to attract a lot of attention on this trip. You know how Moon Base Headquarters gets about transcontinental travel without a 48-hour referral beforehand." Number One answered. "Besides, I think we owe Number Four's uncle some thanks for inviting us. The least we can do is meet him at the airport in a normal plane."

"He's gotta point, ya know," Four added as he twirled the straw in his soda can. "Ah think me Uncle Skip would be pretty freaked if we flew in by ourselves. But ya gotta ask ya parents first if ya can come or me ma will flip a lid."

Number Two gave Four thumbs up. "Already taken care of. Too bad for Tommy though; he really wanted to come."

"I'll have to ask my folks about it tonight," Number Five remarked. "But don't ya worry, they're pretty lax about that kinda stuff as long as I bring 'em back a souvenir."

Number Three waved her floppy sleeves in the air, a large grin spread across her face. "Ooh! Can Mushi come?! Huh? Huh?!"

"No way! Ah'm not takin' your stupid sister halfway across the world! Are you crazy?" Number Four retorted as he turned a page of the comic, the soda can slightly denting in his grip.

Number Three's face fell and her shoulders slumped to her sides. "But...but WHY?!"

The remaining members stared in silence. "Do you really want us ta answer that?" Number Five asked, breaking the pause, the rest of them nodding in agreement.

"Aw..." Number Three sighed. "It was worth a try." She flopped onto the couch and sighed again. "Hey....Number Four..." she asked after a moment, a sly grin creeping onto her face. "Do you think there are _real_ Rainbow Monkeys on Australia too?"

Number Four spit into his soda. "Are you insane? Why the heck would there be any of those ruddy Rainbow Dorkies in Australia?!" He paused for a moment and wiped the soda away from the edge of his mouth. "But then again, if there were, me gram would've taken care of 'em..."

"Huh?" Number Three blankly stared off. "Well, I thought there might be, since it's an island and all. But there'll be plenty of cute cuddly animals there, right?" Her face brightened at the thought.

"Yeah...sure...." Number Four grumbled as he looked back to the comic book, continuing to crush the soda can in his grip.

"He's right, there's tons of neat animals in Australia," Number Two added. "Kangaroos, dingoes, koalas, three-toed sloths; you'll love it, Number Three."

"And the Australian Kids Next Door sector, which I'm quite interested in visiting," Number One interrupted eagerly. "I hope to see you all here bright and early tomorrow morning to check off our belongings for the trip. I'll be checking to see what everyone's packing, so don't forget to bring some weaponry along with you, just in case."

Number Five groaned as she peered out from underneath the brim of her hat. "Man, is that all you think about? This is going to be a _vacation_, not a mission!"

Number One folded his arms disapprovingly and raised his eyebrows. "Vacation or not, we need to keep on guard. Just because we're leaving the country doesn't mean there won't be any adult threats, not to mention teenagers and whatnot. There's no telling what might happen."

"Whatever," Five replied and lazily reclined onto the opposite orange sofa. "But Numbuh Five says you're packin' yo'self at least _one_ pair o' swimin' trunks in that suitcase of yours, Numbuh One."

"Fine..." Number One grumbled and uncrossed his arms in defeat.

The time was eight p.m., Friday evening. A shadowed figure sat in front of the glowing computer monitor typing at superhuman speed, only resting for a moment to grab a few potato chips from a large orange speckled ceramic bowl atop the adjacent filing cabinet. A little ding sounded and a message popped up onto the screen in pink italic font.

**RaiNBowZgUrL:** _So you heard the news?_

The boy grimaced, remembering all too well 'the news' he had learned earlier that evening. Finally he had someone to talk to about it.

**MastuhT:** _Yeah, of course I heard it. That's all he was talking about when he came home._

**RaiNBowZgUrl:** _I can't believe them. This is SO not faaair. We've gotta do something_.

**MastuhT:** _What can we do? It's obvious they don't want to include us._ The boy addressing himself as "MastuhT" let out a sigh and shoved a few more chips into his mouth as he waited for a reply.

**RaiNBowZgUrl:** _;-/_

**MastuhT:** _Aw, don't go getting all smiley-faceish on me._

**RaiNBowZgUrl:** _Fine, mr. smartyguy. :-( How's that?_

**MastuhT:** _You know what I mean. Frowning isn't going to solve anything._

**RaiNBowZgUrl:** _Mmhmm...suuure. I bet you're frowning right now._

The boy grinned at the comment. Even when sending messages over the computer she always seemed to know what he was thinking. Was he really that predictable?

**RaiNBowZgUrl:** _But don't frown anymore, cuz I've got an idea._

**MastuhT:** _All ears and no frowns. Shoot_.

**RaiNBowZgUrl:** _Lol. K. See, she's been talking about going on this trip like forever now, ever since Monday. But I think she wants me to come._

**MastuhT:** _Really? Are you serious?_

This was new. He hadn't heard anything along those lines earlier in the evening. On the contrary, it almost seemed like the news was only relayed to him to make him jealous, not to mention he had only learned about the trip that evening, when it was evidently planned on Monday.

**RaiNBowZgUrl:** _omg totally serious. She's so psyched to go though cuz it's all she's been talking about. So here's the plan: why not stow away?_

**MastuhT:** _Okay... You've got to be kidding._

**RaiNBowZgUrl:** _You know I'm not. Really. We can sooo pull it off._

MastuhT laughed to himself at RaiNBowZgUrl's naivety. Them? Stow away on an airplane? It wasn't possible. It would never work, never in a buhmillion years. Well, by then they wouldn't need to stow away anyways.

**MastuhT:** _We can't stow away, that's crazy._

**RaiNBowZgUrl:** _That's what'll make it work. No one would expect us to do something like that, would they? omg omg it's sooooo perfect!_

**MastuhT:** _Suuure it is—what will you tell your parents when they find out you're not home, huh?_ There, that ought to dampen her spirit. He grinned to himself and grabbed another handful of chips.

**RaiNBowZgUrl:**_ Already taken care of. My parents are planning on sending me away to Skunkie Scout Camp this summer. I'll just hookie my way outta it._

**MastuhT:** _Skunkie Scout Camp?_ MastuhT let out a snort. _You?_

**RaiNBowZgUrl:** _Shut up. Do you want to go on this super-humonganormous trip or not?_

**MastuhT:** _Okay, okay. I do. But where's the logic in this plan?_

**RaiNBowZgUrl:**_ Don't worry, I've arranged something for you too._

MastuhT almost choked on his chips. What the heck was she trying to do?!

**RaiNBowZgUrl:** _I heard you've got guard duty on the KND tree house while they're away. So..._

**MastuhT:** _What are you getting at? Or do I dare ask?_

**RaiNBowZgUrl:** _They'll never know if you've followed them! I mean, your parents think you're spending the summer around the tree house anyways, so it's not like they'll miss you or anything. omg isn't it so awesome?!_

The boy sat for a moment. The mere thought was excruciatingly tempting, and her plan was beginning to sound a little less far-fetched than it had ten minutes ago. All that was left for him to do was to agree with it and that would be it. Instant vacation. Not to mention all the awesome top-secretish stuff he'd get to see—the very kinds of things he thrived on. Hey, when you work alone, you've gotta have some kind of a connection to the inner workings of the groups around you.

**MastuhT:** _What are we waiting for? You've got yourself a deal._

_To Be Continued_

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A/N: Okay, I'm trying to add some conflicty-ness in here, so stay with me. I'm pretty sure you can all guess who "MastuhT" and "RaiNBowZgUrl" are, but humor me and tell me who YOU think they are in a review, okay? So listen up: "GIVE ME REVIEWS OR I'LL TEAR OUT YOUR INTESTINES AND CHEW UPON THEM! :) :D :) :D" Actually, I'm partial vegetarian, so that's a lie. Don't worry, Stripified, I won't ask for a review count because personally I think that's tacky and to be honest, I'm grateful for any reviews I get. Thanksies! 


	3. By Jingoes! It's Ridgie Didge Air Trave...

**Disclaimer**: Nope. Nope. Nope. KND belongs to Mr. Warburton, not me. I really need to learn to write more creative disclaimers...

**A/N**: Okay, here comes the third chapter. You can probably guess that I'm trying to drag this story out as much as possible, but I really feel that it's necessary. I don't know why--I just do. As far as my attempted fluff (you flatter me, soraoathkeeper), I'm doing my best, but I don't want to rush anything. I dunno. But for those of you who aren't too crazy about the accents and such, never fear! This chapter is a little less accent-ish than the other two. So sit back and enjoy the flight! (Wow, that was cheesy...)

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Operation: AUSTRALIA

**Chapter Three:**

By Jingoes! It's Ridgie Didge Air Travel!

_(Wow! A Real Air Plane!)_

I'm really getting a kick outta these chapter titles...

* * *

There was no telling just how much was inside, not to mention the overwhelming weight and tacky flower print, but it would work. Besides, she could always buy another one. Packing suitcases wasn't exactly her area of expertise. Abigail Lincoln looked down at her luggage bag in disgust and began to contemplate on how she was going to get it down the stairs.

"Yo! Abby! 'You done yet? Dad's gonna leave for the airport without you if you don't move your butt!"

"Aw, pipe down, Cree, I'm almost done!" Abigail continued to look down at her lumpy suitcase. Once bright pink with yellow flowers, it had been her favorite bag when she was younger. Now, she had grown, and flowers weren't exactly her idea of traveling in style. She groaned and shoved a few extra pairs of underwear into one of the bulging compartments just for good measure. You could never have too much underwear. A couple of magazines and a stack of CDs later, she felt fully packed and prepared.

"Come ON, Abby! Put your rear in gear already!" Her father's voice resonated up the stairway and she mentally flinched. When would adults learn how stupid those 'motivational phrases' sounded? If she hadn't been running so late, she would have considered slowing down, just to annoy him for the sake of it.

Ever since Number Four had told them about the big trip to Australia she had been excited. Not like Number Three or One, more of a patient anticipating sort of excitement. Abby didn't travel often with her family, and being the youngest made things even more difficult. She could have never asked for a more welcomed opportunity to get away from Cree over the summer. Although her sister had miraculously managed to secure a part-time summer job at the local drug store, Cree had still managed to find enough time to hang around the house and leech off Abby for house chores and such. Finally she'd be able to get away!

"If you don't hurry up, I'M going to take your ticket and go to Australia instead!" Cree's voice shrilled up to the second floor. Abby smiled to herself—if only her oblivious older sibling knew...if she had any idea just what kind of a trip Sector V was actually going on, she'd never let them go. Sure, it was a "vacation", as Number One liked to call it, but Abby was smart enough to know by now anything Number One considered to be a "vacation" involved piles of paperwork and KND official business. Chances were he was going to make a push to visit the Australian KND base, whether the rest of them wanted too or not. But she'd be ready.... oh, he'd be sorry. She cast a sideways glance at her suitcase and grinned. It was about time Number One got the rest and relaxation he deserved.

"Abby, are you okay up there?" Her father's voice called again. "Do you need any help with the suitcase, and the carry-on, and the travel papers..."

"Naw, I'm fine, Dad," she called back and began to drag her ridiculously heavy and tacky suitcase down the stairs, the handle scraping the back of her heel mercilessly as she trudged into the kitchen. "Let's get going," she remarked and grabbed an iced donut off the kitchen countertop.

Cree watched Abby over the top off her magazine from the table, her eyes narrowing. "For a little trip, you sure are packing a _lot_..." she began subtly and took a sip from her grey coffee mug.

"You should know better than anyone how much luggage a girl needs, _sis_." Abby answered coolly, hastily chewing down the donut. "Besides, it's not a little trip—I am goin' like, halfway across the world," she added and took a long gulp from the milk carton.

"Ew, that's _so_ gross! How many times has Dad told you not to drink from the carton?!" Cree commented in disapproval and returned behind her magazine. "You kids are so _stupid_ sometimes."

"Yeah, whateva'. Now you be good for Dad while I'm gone, y'hear?" Abby replied mockingly and dragged her suitcase to the door, her father fumbling through his pockets for the car keys.

Cree rolled her eyes. "Like you need to tell me that. I'd worry more about yourself if _I_ were you."

"Then it's pretty good that you aren't, huh?" Abby laughed as she left the house behind her father, still dragging her suitcase down the porch steps.

* * *

_Airports are boring. Airports are cruddy. Airports are stupid. Airports are for losers. Airports are lame. Airports are pathetic. Airports are—_

"Hi, Number Four! Am I too early? I wanted to make sure mom dropped me off at the airport on time," Number Three called from across the waiting room and skipped through the door dragging a little pale blue bag on wheels, her floppy sleeves sailing through the air in a good-natured wave.

"Eh? Naw, you're not too early. Actually, you're the first one here," Number Four replied and dismissed all of his previous negative thoughts. _But I still can't stand these ruddy airports..._

"Wow..." Number Three dragged her bag up to the wooden bench where Number Four was sitting and gazed around at the waiting room in awe. "I haven't been to an airport in a _looong_ time. Not since we flew over from Japan." She grinned and hopped onto the bench next to Number Four. "Aren't airports great?"

"...Yeah, they sure are..." he found himself answering. Okay, so they weren't _that_ bad. Suddenly he felt a light tap on his shoulder and quickly turned around. "Number One! When'd you get 'ere?"

Number One peered down at his digital wristwatch. "At 7 o'clock sharp, just like you said." He wheeled his own red denim bag over to the side of the bench and studied the waiting room, all the while maintaining an emotionless expression. "I'll have to admit, I agree with Number Two that public air travel just isn't as good as our own vehicles." 

"Yeah, but loike ah said, I don' think me uncle would be too crazy about us flyin' in ourselves. Besides, he doesn't know about the Kids Next Door or any o' that."

Number Three nodded in agreement. "Don't forget about the little cups of orange juice they give you at the beginning of the flight! That's my favoritest part!" (A/N: I've only been on a plane once, but that was the part I remembered best. You can't beat free orange juice!)

"If you wanted orange juice, I would've gotten some for you," Number Two interrupted and walked up behind Number One. Tommy was close behind carrying Number Two's suitcase with a great deal of difficulty. "But you know, this is kind of a good thing—at least I won't be piloting this time," he continued and took the dingy brown suitcase from Tommy.

Number One checked his watch again and glanced over at the doorway. "Where's Number Five? She's usually on time."

"I'm sure she's okay! She's probably doing some last-minute packing," Number Three answered and happily swung her feet from atop the bench.

"Numbah Five has arrived," Abby called and ran up behind Numbers Two and One, dragging her suitcase behind her. "Dad got stuck in some 'o dat traffic on the way, so we were runnin' a little late."

"How's Cree?" One inquired and lowered his glasses.

"'Doesn't suspect a thang," Five replied with a grin. "Man, teenagers can be so _stupid_."

Number One then turned to Tommy and put his hands behind his back. "And Tommy, will you be able to keep watch over the tree house while we are gone?" 

Tommy held up his hand in a salute and grinned. "You can count on me, Number One! I'll be the _bestest_ tree house watcher ever!" Still grinning, he then turned to face Number Two. "You better bring me back a super-awesome souvenir!"

"Don't worry, I wouldn't forget," Hoagie answered and pushed his bag up against the bench. "Just behave for mom, okay?"

"Okay!" Tommy waved. He turned and jogged away from the group, rounding the first corner on the right as he departed.

Number One smiled and began to rummage through his bags until he withdrew his passport. "I think the tree house is in good hands with your brother, Number Two."

"Yeah, he's kinda goofy, but I taught him how to manage the defense system well." Number Two began to wistfully glance at the snack bar across the waiting room. "But we'll have to change the initiation password when we come back." He leaned over the back of the bench and tapped Four on the shoulder. "Hey, do you think the snack bar carries chili dogs? I'm starving!"

Number Four grinned. "Good idea. Let's grab somthin' ta eat before we leave."

Number Three continued to swing her feet. "I'll watch the bags! Is that okay?"

"Sure," he answered and began to walk over to the snack bar with Numbers Two and One. Number Five walked around to the front of the bench and sat next to Three, pulling her own suitcase up next to the pile.

"How come you didn' go with them, Numbuh Three?" Five asked, reclining on the bench, her hat covering her eyes.

Number Three shrugged. "I want to save room for the little orange juice on the plane!"

"Orange juice...?"

* * *

She had been sitting there for almost a half an hour. When was he going to show up? Her question was quickly answered when Tommy Gilligan ran around the corner and knocked into her, sending them both toppling over a cardboard display of bright yellow flight brochures.

"Hey, what gives?!" She glared and rubbed her head.

Tommy shrugged and caught his breath. "Next time you should be more clear with your directions, Mushi. I've been looking all over for you—there's a buhmillion flight brochure stands all over the airport. You could've told me which one you'd be waiting at!" He paused and pulled out a rumpled booklet from his pocket. "Do you have your passport?

Mushi sighed and pulled out her own passport. "It's been forever since I've used this, but mom says it's still valid."

"What about the tickets? I couldn't afford one and mom was already suspicious about the money I spent on the passport," Tommy sighed and began to pick up the brochure display and stack the pamphlets.

Mushi grinned and whipped out two tickets. "I bet you didn't know that Skunky Scout Camp is off in Gwinnett, Georgia." Her grin widened and she handed him his ticket. "Mom bought tickets there for me and Kuki, but when Kuki told mom about the Australia trip we had to exchange them. I just did a little persuading and _voila_!"

Tommy cast her a doubtful look and studied his ticket. "I dunno...that's kinda shady, Mushi. I've got a bad feeling about this, especially since we're traveling alone without adults..."

Mushi crossed her floppy sleeves and stomped her foot. "And you call yourself a boy! You make me _sick_! Aren't you supposed to be working alone anyways? Where's your sense of adventure! Sheesh, what a _wimp_!"

"I am not a _wimp_! I just don't think this is such a good id—" he was cut off as Mushi shoved him behind the brochure display and covered his mouth with her sleeve. A tall woman with a strong southern accent strolled by talking on her cell phone.

"Are you sure you can't schedule this earlier? I've got plans today!" The woman paused and listened to the reply on the other end. "You think I want to do this?! I can't stand children, never mind five of them," She nervously ran her manicured hand through her cheaply streaked blonde hair. "It'll be worth it though, you know it will. No one's ever managed to pull it off before."

Tommy and Mushi exchanged nervous glances from behind the display, neither of them daring to breathe. This woman didn't sound like the type of person they'd want to be caught eavesdropping on.

"Of course they'll help! What child _doesn't_ like rai—oh, hold on, my battery's low. I'll have to call you back later." She blew a loud kiss into the receiver. "Ciao!" The woman folded her leopard-print cell phone shut and snapped it into a pouch in her pocketbook, then checked her opulent-looking watch. "I'd better get going anyways. First impressions are _always_ the most important." With that said, she trotted away, her heels clicking against the tiled floor.

Tommy let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, that was some quick thinking." He turned to Mushi and scratched the back of his head. "That was close, we were almost caught."

"Too close; we can't have any adults finding us on this trip! We'll have to be more careful." Mushi replied and pulled Tommy to his feet. "Let's go find our flight. The quicker we get out of here, the better."

Tommy brushed himself off and frowned. "People are going to ask questions though. What are we going to tell them? It's not everyday two little kids travel alone by air."

Mushi stopped for a second and leaned up against her small yellow polka-dotted bag in thought. "We could say we're brother and sister?"

Tommy shook his head. "No, we don't look anything alike."

"Cousins?"

"Same thing."

"Boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"Uh...I don't think so." Tommy answered, turning slightly pink and hastily averted his attention to a large group of elementary students lined up in a queue carrying instrument cases.

"I know!" Mushi cried and pointed a floppy finger at the students. "Let's pretend we're traveling as students to perform in Australia, like those students are!"

"But we can't play instruments!" Tommy protested.

Mushi groaned and slapped her forehead. "We don't _have_ to, stupid! We're just pretending! They look about our age, and they're going on the same flight. Besides, it's better than pretending to be dating. What's there to lose?"

Tommy sighed and picked up his hand-me-down suitcase. "You win. Lead the way."

* * *

"Man, these airport chili dogs ROCK!" Number Two declared and stuffed the remaining half of his snack into his mouth with zeal.

Number Five flinched and raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure it's a good idea to be eatin' dat before the flight, Numbuh Two?"

Number Two shrugged and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. "I don't know, but we'll find out."

"Man, remind me not to sit in front of _you_, okay?"

The group laughed and Number Two sheepishly grinned behind the napkin. The flight wasn't scheduled to take off for another twenty minutes, so Number Four had convinced Five and Three to come over to the snack bar after they took care of tagging their luggage.

Number One checked his watch again and took a sip of his milk shake. "You mentioned your uncle's name is 'Skip', Number Four. What does he look like? It's important to know for when we get off the plane so we'll be able to find him."

"Uh..." Number Four looked up from his soda. "Ah haven't seen 'im since last summa' so Ah can't remember too well...he's kinda tall, and he's got this stupid bandana he loikes to tie around his head—makes 'im think he's cool." He swished the soda around in the can for a moment before continuing. "But he might send me gram ta meet us instead."

"Ooh! What's your grandmum like, Number Four?! Is she nice? Does she bake cookies?!" Number Three exclaimed and leaned over the table.

Four grimaced. "Ah you _kiddin'_?! We neva' let gram within' a 'undred meters of the stove."

"Cakes then? Does she bake cakes?!"

"...No." Four answered firmly. "Me gram doesn't cook, Numbah Three."

"Either way, that doesn't change the fact that—oh, hello...do you need something?" Number One asked as he looked up at the tall woman standing next to the snack bar table. She was wearing a crisp navy blue suit and high heel shoes; her hair had obviously been streaked blonde by an amateur and her hands were neatly manicured.

The woman glanced down at a pad of paper in her hand, then back at the group, her gaze falling upon Number Four. "You must be Wallace Beatles," she said with an over-friendly smile, her teeth perfectly straight and white and her accent faintly Australian. "My name's Phyllis Sympkins. Your uncle, Skipper, sent me to meet you at the airport. I'm his secretary."

"_Secretary_? Ah didn' know Skip had a secretary!" Four exclaimed. ta think of it, Ah don't even know what me uncle does for a job."

Phyllis flashed another blindingly white smile. "It's not my place to discuss your uncle's business." She replied curtly and gestured over to the pile of suitcases, folding up her notepad. "We should get ready to board the plane. Our flight will be leaving soon."

Number Three tugged on the woman's sleeve, her free hand dragging along her suitcase. "Will we get free orange juice?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, yes, of course you will," Phyllis answered and picked Number Three off her arm. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about that."

Number Four still wasn't convinced. "How do we know my uncle sent you? This could be a trick!" He glared untrustingly and drained the contents of his soda.

The woman frowned in confusion and began to dig through her pocketbook. "If you'd like, I can show you my ID..." she held up a piece of paper with her picture on it and a large, almost illegible signature at the bottom.

Number Four took the paper and scanned it over. "Yup, that's me uncle's handwriting all roight. He's the only person Ah know who puts little swirlies over his 'i's." He handed the paper back to Phyllis and grabbed his suitcase by the handle, casting her another dirty glare. "Fine...but I won't loike it."

Number Five shrugged and began to saunter off towards the queue. "Well, let's do what the lady sez and get ourselves some seats," she called and tipped her hat. Number Three waved her floppy sleeves in agreement and skipped after her, Four shuffling a short distance behind. Numbers Two and One nodded and followed suit, walking by a large group of elementary students.

Mushi and Tommy peeked out from the queue of students, blending in perfectly. "Hey, wasn't that the lady who was talking on the phone earlier? I thought she was southern, not Australian," Tommy asked apprehensively.

Mushi nodded, her face grim. "Yeah...but what's she doing with my sister and the others?!"

"I don't know, but she's going on the same flight as us, so I have a feeling we'll find out soon enough," Tommy replied nervously and looked over his shoulder at the rest of the students in the line.

"I'm not so sure I want to, Tommy. She gave me the creeps." Mushi commented and returned to the line.

* * *

"Yay! I told you there would be free orange juice, Number Four!"

"Yeah, well...don't go making a big deal over it."

Number Three smiled happily and took her cup from the air hostess, turning her attention to the window. Number Four grinned to himself—he was the one who had asked the air hostess to give Number Three the juice in the first place. Just in case.

Number Five watched on with an amused grin in her seat on the other side of Number Four. "Gee, how come _I_ didn't get one, Numbuh Four?" She asked with a smirk. Number Four turned red and suddenly became absorbed in counting the loose threads on his sleeve.

Number Two leaned over the back of Number Five's seat and grinned. "Man, public air travel doesn't even come _close_ to our own!" Number One abruptly nudged Two in the shoulder and warningly glanced at Phyllis, who was sitting on his right. Two hastily silenced.

"Man, why did I end up sittin' in front of you?" Number Five laughed. "I thought we went ova' this already! You betta' keep dat chilli dog o' your where it belongs!"

"Don't worry, Number Five," Two remarked assuringly. "I bet you didn't know they give you barf bags on the plane, did you?"

Number Three giggled and Five slapped her forehead. "That was _way_ more than I needed to know."

* * *

"All right, team. I think we need to discuss a few things." It wasn't until about an hour after the flight took off that Number One spoke. He had been silent ever since Phyllis had shown up, but at the moment she was asleep, her head against the window and her streaked hair hanging in her face.

Number Two looked up from his comic. "What's _up_, Number One? Get it?! Up? Airplane?!"

"This is no time to joke, Number Two," One replied and gestured to Phyllis' sleeping figure on his right. "She's thrown quite a kink into our plans. Number Four, are you sure you don't recall this woman being involved with your uncle before?"

"Naw, he's neva' had much luck with girls," Four remarked and removed his headphones.

Number One lowered his voice and cautiously peered over his sunglasses. "Not like that; if this adult plans on following us then she's sadly mistaken. There's no way we're going to lead her to the Australian Kids Next Door station. We've got to figure out a way to get rid of her—we can't have her learning too much."

Number Five leaned over the back of her seat and nodded in agreement. "Man, there's _somethin'_ about that lady I don't like. She jus' gives me the creeps."

"I dunno," Three interjected. "I think she's kinda nice."

Number Four stubbornly crossed his arms. "Not _me_! Uncle Skip's not loike this; he wouldn't send some cruddy lady to help us on the plane. Ah think she's up ta somethin'."

"That's what I think. But for the time being, we should simply remain on our guard," One replied quietly. "There's a chance that she might simply be...well, a little too nice for her own good. Until we learn more about her and your uncle, Number Four, I say we keep a low profile and address each other by our actual names. That way she won't get suspicious."

"I agree. If we're not careful we could _land_ ourselves in a lot of trouble," Two laughed. "Land? Airplane?"

Number Five shook her head and returned to her magazine. It was going to be a long summer....

* * *

**A/N**: Since Mushi and Tommy aren't major characters, it's tricky for me to write them in character and I think I made Mushi a little too tough. But I kind of like her that way. Also, there are a few things to clear up. Firstly, I have absolutely no idea what Gwinnett Georgia is like. Secondly, please hate my original character! I am usually very cautious about adding original characters to my stories, but I felt "Phyllis Symkins" was necessary. Not only that, but I've only flown on an airplane twice (there and back), so this chappie was pretty skimpy on the details. Heh...but wait until they get to Australia...that's where the fun begins. I've been researching for this...

Plus, keep in mind this is one of my first attempts at throwing in some fluff, but I really don't have any couples (other than Three and Four) established. I mean, 3/4ness is to be expected, we all know that. But I'm still teetering between 1/5 and 2/5. Also, if anyone supports Mushi/Tommy, let me know! Special points (who's counting?!) to Stripified, Numbuh 158, bucksfan7, Jill, Numbah34, and soraoathkeeper for figuring their identities out...though it was really obvious. And to all who's intestines I chewed upon, you can have them back. Sorry!


	4. Loose Kangaroos

**Disclaimer**: ...Duh...KND is mine! All mine!! MWA HA HA! Huh? What are you doing? Who's that? NO!! NOT THE BRIEFCASE!! ANYTHING BUT THE BRIEFCASE!! I'LL BE GOOD NEXT TIME!!!!

Ah, another one falls prey to the Lawyer-Sueing-Syndrome. KND belongs to Mr. Warburton and Co., not me. Watch what you say, everyone!

**A/N**: Wow, my fourth chappie already! I'm trying to hold out on Op: FF for the time being so everyone has a fair shot at voting, so I'm turning as much effort on this story before school starts. After that, heh...I dunno what'll happen. Let's hope something nice. But before we start, thanks for all the reviews!

Julayla: If you're having difficulty with writing the acronyms for your stories, I strongly suggest you try using a thesaurus. Ever since I found my computer had one, I've literally 'used and abused' it. Look up the original word you want to use and see if there are any that match the letter for the acronym you're using for your title. And don't forget to tell me how it came out!

AkitoSana: If you will step this way you'll notice a large, gaping plot hole in the middle of the text. Yup, I'll admit, I'm taking a chance with Tommy and Mushi's involvement, and you're entirely right about his assignment to watch the tree house, but I needed a good excuse for why his parents won't miss him. Not only that, but I have no clue how Mushi managed to acquire their tickets. Like she said, "_Voila_!" Hey, who knows, but it sounds about right...sort of...

And on the questions of couples, I'm sorry to say, bucksfan7, but I think I'm going to focus more on 2/5 rather than 1/5. From the way I look at it, you've basically got the 1/5ness covered and there's no way I could ever compete, plus Miss Puar had a very good point; it is a little clichéd. Adorable, but it's been done. But don't worry—I won't completely leave them out. You know Abby won't let Nigel get away from those beaches that easily! XD

And I think I'm going to continue with Mushi/Tommy as well, for the heck of it. I consider this story to be primarily experimental, which leads me to my last drawling author's note. This chapter and many from here on out will be taking place in Australia, so my accuracy and factuality may not be one-hundred percent. If you see anything historically inaccurate or such, PLEASE let me know—I hate being wrong. If you're interested in learning more about Australia and Australian slang, check out some links I threw in my bio, since I couldn't put them up on the story. Enjoy!

* * *

Operation: AUSTRALIA

**Chapter Four:**

"A Few Kangaroos Loose in the Top Paddock"

_(Some Slightly Unusual Encounters)_

Okay, so that's not exactly what it means, but it pretty much sums up this chapter...

_There are some things in life money can't buy. For everything else, there's yah rellies, so treat 'em roight!_

Those words of advice echoed through Wally's mind as the passengers filed off the airplane. For all the griping and complaining he had done, it was worth it to be home. That first step off the plane was always the best—nothing in the world could ever compare to the smell of the air. It just felt different, but New South Wales was one of his favorite places and the Sydney markets had a distinct scent of their own he'd never forget. He stuffed his CD player into his carry-on bag and smoothed out his hair. It didn't matter how messy it was if Skip was meeting them, but if gram was there...

"Alright, kiddies, here we are! Welcome to Australia, the Land Down Under," Phyllis announced in a mock tour-guide voice as she began to unbuckle her seatbelt. Wally winced—the sooner they were off the plane, the better. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stand the mysterious woman and her obnoxious habits.

He could tell he wasn't alone in his thoughts. The flight would have been a completely different experience if she hadn't been there. The first half was pleasant—she was sleeping then. But once she woke up all she had done was continuously question his friends about their families, hobbies—basically everything. And when she wasn't playing "20 Questions", that cruddy cell phone of hers was ringing off the hook. Of course, _their_ lives were interesting enough to share with her, but she never mentioned her own. Whenever she got a call, she dashed off to the restroom to talk, once for almost a half an hour. (This was unsurprisingly one of the more enjoyable moments of the flight)

Nigel was irritated more than any of them, however. It was obvious how much he had been looking forward to the trip, mostly because of their planned visit to the Australian Kids Next Door station, but things were looking pretty slim. With Phyllis hanging around, they couldn't even address each other by their codenames. Wally turned around in his seat and watched Nigel help Phyllis with her seatbelt. It looked as though one of her nails had chipped when she was undoing the buckle, and Nigel, on his best behavior, was attempting to undo the buckle for her, since she refused to try again after damaging her nail. How he managed to help while keeping a straight face amazed Wally to no end—but he was sure they'd all get an earful from Nigel about his dislike over the woman as soon as she was out of earshot.

"Yo, Num—ah, _Wally_, wake up Kuki, will ya?" Abby asked as she zipped up her bag with difficulty. "We gotta get goin'."

Wally grumbled an unintelligible answer and turned to his right. Kuki's head was slumped against the window, the empty orange juice cup still sitting in the cup holder by her shoulder. He apprehensively lifted his hand and tapped her on the shoulder. "Eh...Kuki? We're 'ere."

Abby rose from her seat and slung her carry-on over her shoulder. "Man, what a chicken. Y'think _that's_ gonna wake her? You know Kuki sleeps like a rock."

Wally grimaced and tapped Kuki again. "'Ey, wake up, stupid," he called, this time louder. Kuki mumbled something in her sleep and unexpectedly latched onto his arm, her face nuzzled into his sleeve. "Rainbow...monkey........."

Abby raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah, _exactly_ like that," she drawled, her voice saturated in sarcasm. "Like _that'll_ work."

Wally cast her a furious glare, his face blazing red, then turned back to Kuki. "Ah am NOT a ruddy Rainbow Monkey, so wake UP!" he hollered, attracting the attention of the rest of his group, along with most of the departing passengers. Phyllis watched on in amusement after her seatbelt had been fixed, lovingly massaging her broken nail.

Kuki blinked a few times and cast Wally an inquisitive stare, her eyes still fogged over in a dreamy expression. "Wally? You're not a rainbow monkey..."

"Didn' Ah jus' say that?!"

She blinked again and let go of his arm. "Sorry, I was having a dream," she grinned and took her carry-on bag down from the shelf above her seat. "I bet you'll never ever guess what it was about!"

Abby and Wally exchanged glances. "Let's save dat fo' another day, okay, Kuki?" Abby impishly grinned at Wally and stepped into the aisle, moving to the side to let Nigel, Hoagie, and Phyllis pass, Wally and Kuki following close behind.

"I want everyone to stay together—no straying from the group!" Phyllis' shrill voice sounded as they walked onto Sydney's terminal. "You don't want to get lost." She waved, her arm narrowly missing a large potted plant near the door.

"No, but it'd be nice if you did," Hoagie whispered to Nigel. They both grinned in delight while watching Phyllis flamboyantly direct Kuki to the nearest wastebasket to throw away her empty cup.

* * *

"Well, then. Let's go find your uncle, shall we?" Phyllis asked and clapped her manicured hands together. The group had taken a few minutes to pull their baggage together and take some necessary bathroom stops along the way before they could start looking for Wally's uncle.

"His name is 'Skip', lady." Wally retorted and kicked the side of his bag in annoyance.

"And _my_ name, young man, is Ms. Sympkin, and I'd advise you call me that. Understood?"

Wally glared and silently dragged his bag over to where the rest of the group was standing. "Ah'll call yeh whateva' Ah want ta."

Phyllis stood silently for a moment, absorbing this new information. Then, unexpectedly, she flashed one of her brightest and most obnoxious smiles yet. "That's the spirit!"

Nigel's eyebrows rose in surprise, his gaze meeting Abby's. They both shrugged and gave Wally a supportive smile. He frowned and began to tug at his bag again. The suitcase was almost as tall as him and three times as heavy. "Yeah...sure..." he mumbled and continued to pull at the suitcase handle.

"Um...let's go find your uncle then, Wally," Nigel remarked, uncomfortably breaking the silence following Wally's comment.

The group traveled across the terminal in unanimous agreement and arrived at the waiting room, Phyllis leading the procession. She halted as she reached the information desk, her shrewd eyes scanning around. "I don't see your uncle here yet—oh." Her eyes flickered over to a short, almost dwarf-like woman sitting in the farthest corner seat next to a stack of dated magazines. She looked to about eighty years old, her face sunken underneath numerous layers of finely etched wrinkles. Her hair was a wiry grey and she was wearing a scruffy t-shirt that said, "_My Dad went to Cambodia and all he brought me back was this lousy t-shirt_," in bold black letters.

The woman looked up from her book, her eyes narrowing. "Phyllis. Wot a pleasant surprise."

Phyllis uncomfortably cleared her throat. "Ah, why yes, it is, Mrs. Hamdan."

The old woman spat a dry laugh. "Shut yeh trap. I was lyin' through my teeth. An' call meh Fran, that is, if yeh want ta' live to see tomorra'." She disgustedly turned away from Phyllis and looked upon the rest of the group. "Ah see yeh've made it 'ere in one piece, Wally."

Wally sheepishly glanced over his bag. "G'day, gram."

His grandmother rose from her seat and carelessly tossed the book onto the side table. "Come closer so Ah can see yeh," she demanded. Wally cast his friends a hesitant glance and walked over to Fran. She studied his face over for a moment and then gave him a sharp slap on the side of his head. "Tha's for fergettin' ta write to yeh gram."

"But Ah wrote to yeh!"

"Cods wallop! Yeh only sent yeh uncle a letter an' left yeh poor gram with nothing," she remarked then curtly slapped the other side of his head with the back of her hand.

"Ow!! Wot was _that_ one for?!"

"For whatever else yeh've done wrong that Ah don't know about yet," she answered austerely. "Because Ah know yeh too well."

As Wally rubbed his sore head, Nigel stepped forward from the crowd and held out his hand in greetings. "Hello, you must be Wally's grandmother. My name's Nigel and we just wanted to thank you for inviting us to spend the summer here with—"

"Ah, cut the crap. Down 'ere, it's winter time on the opposite side o' the hemisphere. Can't yeh mates speak for themselves? Ah bet yeh fancy yehself ta be their leader, eh?"

Nigel adjusted his sunglasses and straightened his posture, pleased for the recognition. "Well, actually—"

"Hey! Was that the '_International Second Edition Lower Hemisphere Yipper Collector's Guide_' you were reading?!" Hoagie exclaimed as he pushed his way to the front, his eyes hungrily resting on the book Fran had been reading.

The old woman's face broke into a wrinkly grin. "Yeah, Ah can't go anywhere without a good book or two." She picked up her book and crammed it into a bulging flower-print knit bag.

"Awesome!" Hoagie cried and hastily covered his mouth after getting a sharp jab in the side from Abby. She cast him a warning look and gestured to him to keep quiet.

Phyllis, on the other hand, didn't appear to be amused, much to Wally's satisfaction. "Yes, well, it's nice to see you, Mrs. Hamdan, but I'm afraid we'll have to get going," she replied icily and ran her finger down the seam of her pocketbook, impatiently fingering the latch. "We still have a long way to travel; Skipper's ranch is quite a few miles away, as I'm sure you're aware of."

Fran sneered and slung her knit bag over her stooped shoulder. "Tryin' ta get rid of me, are yeh? Fool. I'm here to give you a ride there, if yeh didn't know," her eyes lit up in amusement. "Unless, _Phyllis_, you'd rather walk there instead."

The young woman's thin lip involuntarily twitched. "We'd be more than happy for your assistance, Mrs. Hamdan."

Wally's grandmother walked towards the lobby door and gave them a beckoning wave. "Ah thought so. So be a dear, _Phyllis_, an' call me 'Fran', willya?"

* * *

"Wow, I definitely wasn't expecting it to be so...big...."

"Well, what did you expect, stupid? We've been researching Australia with Mr. Pringle in school, like, since the Music Association for Gifted Students planned on taking this trip. Of _course_ it's big."

Mushi glared back at the dark haired boy walking in front of her as they left the terminal. As if to increase her annoyance, he swung his guitar case over his shoulder, scarcely missing her face. Of course she hadn't known it was going to be so large; _she_ wasn't a member of the Music Whatever and she certainly hadn't studied with Mr. Whoever. She hitched up her little yellow bag close under her arm and gazed around in amazement.

"I bet you didn't know Australia is one of the most sparsely populated countries of the world either," the boy continued in a haughty voice, his guitar case jostling against his shoulder as he walked. "But that's because most areas are just big empty spaces. The majority of Australia's population is concentrated in the large cities."

"I knew that," Tommy interrupted from behind Mushi, his own suitcase giving him some difficulty. "I bet _you_ didn't know that Great Britain used Australia as a place to send their prisoners and convicts, did you?"

The boy snickered and tossed his dark hair away from his face. "Yeah, right, like I'm going to believe something like that." He paused and cast them both a suspicious look. "Hey, where are your instrument cases? Don't tell me you two forgot them; this is the biggest trip of the school year!" He scanned their faces over with a perceptive stare. Mushi and Tommy exchanged nervous glances. "Now that I think of it, I don't recognize either of you. Are you two new?"

"Uh...." Mushi trailed off and turned to Tommy for support. However, he was nowhere to be found. "Tommy?!" She began to search frantically around and started to call his name again, when suddenly a hand shot out from behind the corner and pulled her away from the group of students in the terminal.

The boy who had been walking in front of her continued to talk obliviously and moved his guitar case from one shoulder to the other. "Well, what can I say; it's obvious someone as dimwitted as your friend would get lost here—you two definitely didn't pay attention to last week's lesson..." he trailed off as he turned around and discovered he was talking to no one. "Hey, where'd she go?"

* * *

"So, Mrs. Wally's Granmum, do you like to cook?"

"Cook? He didn' tell yeh much about me then, eh? Ah'm not allowed anywhere near the bloody stove. Not that Ah'd ever want ta use it."

Kuki's eyes grew wide as she fell into a silent shock. Fran certainly didn't fit the 'grandmotherly mold' she had been expecting. Actually, Fran didn't seem to fit any mold.

"AH! Turn left! LEFT!!" Phyllis hollered and held her manicured hand over her mouth in horror. "Mrs. Hamdan, are you _absolutely_ sure you don't want me to drive?" she cried.

Fran laughed. "Eh, don't be such an old chook! Ah never get a chance ta drive anymore! Not since Gramps was a trucky for the shippin' factory—he'd let me have a go at it once in a while."

Nigel turned to Wally on his left, his face riddled with confusion. Wally sighed. "She's telling Phyllis ta lay off because me gram doesn't drive anymore—" he was cut off as the topless jeep recklessly sailed over a speed bump, "an' when me Gramps was a truck driver he'd let her drive the shippin' company truck occasionally."

Nigel nodded, but the frown didn't leave his face. "Um...Mrs. Hamdan—"

"Fran, boy; call me Fran."

"Yes, well, Fran...is your license still valid?"

"License? Yeh kids kill me! Thinkin' yeh're all grown up at such a young age—it's a riot," she laughed and began to sway her head to the side.

Nigel frowned again and shook his head, avoiding eye contact with Phyllis' disapproving stare on his left. The roofless jeep had obviously seen better days, and Fran had most likely driven on better roads, hopefully. They had been driving for almost two hours, half an hour through Sydney, New South Wales. According to Wally, his uncle lived on a ranch in the town of Bourke near Broken Hill—about 1170 kilometers from Sydney.

The first part of the ride was enjoyable—Wally had pointed out some scenic spots in the city; the beautiful Harbour Bridge, several amazing botanic gardens and parks including the Hyde Park, named after a famous park in London that Nigel had visited once. Passing by the Hyde Park had been interesting, but he still preferred the one in London better. He was disappointed they hadn't driven by the Sydney Opera House, he and Hoagie had been looking forward to seeing it.

"So, yeh told me yeh like readin' Yipper, eh?" Fran asked Hoagie on her right. Ever since he learned Wally's grandmother was an avid Yipper fan, he had been very willing to take the seat next to the driver's seat in front, leaving Phyllis squished in the back of the jeep with the rest of the passengers; everyone sharing a seatbelt with a partner. Whether it was legal or not didn't seem to matter—they hadn't passed anyone else on the road for hours and Nigel was beginning to doubt they were even driving on a paved road anymore.

Hoagie nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, but I share my collection with Wally. I just got the first edition Yipper Holiday Special the other day! I packed it with me so if you want to see it I'll show you when we get to Skip's place."

Fran casually waved her hand, the jeep uncomfortably driving over a pile of bramble bushes. "Onya for yeh, but Ah've already got two copies 'o that one."

* * *

"Yes! We found 'em! Ah am SO getting a promotion!"

"_You_?! If Ah remember correctly, _Ah_ was the one who spotted 'em at the terminal!"

Mushi and Tommy gazed up at their captors in confusion, both somewhat difficult to understand judging from their heavy Australian accents. To the left of Mushi stood a tall, twiggy boy of about eleven years old, his skin tanned from being outdoors frequently and his dark hair hidden under a large cooking pot with the number '38' scotch tapped to the front, the handle sticking out in the back. He snapped at the strap of overalls in impatience and cast a glare at the smaller one.

"Yeah, _yeh_ spotted 'em alroight, but Ah was the one who got 'em. If we hadn't done anything they would've left with that stupid touristy group," the boy next to Tommy squeaked. He too was wearing a cooking pot over his head, but it practically covered his eyes. The number '39' was sloppily glued onto his pot, slightly off-center, and the '3' was written backwards.

"Would someone PLEASE tell me what is going on?!" Mushi hollered, shattering the thick tension forming in the air. The two boys cast her a shocked glance, almost as though they had forgotten she was there.

"Wot's goin' on? Yeh should know!" The taller of the two boys spoke up and proudly puffed out his chest. "Me brother and Ah were sent by the Australian Kids Next Door base to give yeh a proper greetin' an' all, mate. We got message from ya leader that yeh were comin'."

The younger boy feverishly nodded, his pot sliding over his face and painfully crashing into the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, an' this was the initiation assignment Numbah 112 gave me. My first job eva'!"

"Tha's roight," the taller boy added, his voice affectionate as he looked at the shorter boy. "Ah'm Numbah 38, an' this nipper's me brother, Numbah 39. He's only been workin' for a little while, but he can be quite a sponger. This is his first assignment."

Mushi held up her sleeves in the air and cocked her head to the side. "Wait, you mean to tell us that you've been...expecting us?"

Tommy frowned and kicked the side of his brown bag in frustration, bruising his toe in the process. "This is no fair! I wanted this to be a secret!" Mushi cast him a glare and kicked him in the shin, sending Tommy doubling over on his knees in pain.

Number 38 watched on in amusement. "O' course we've been expectin' yeh!" He dramatically flailed his arms in the air, smacking his brother in the side of the head, narrowly missing the pot. "We've been waiting practically our whole lives to meet you guys!"

Tommy stopped kicking his bag and turned to face Mushi, a flicker of fear crossing his face. She gave him a reassuring look and he returned it with a weak grin, directing his attention to "What do you mean by that? We've never been here before—how could you have waited your entire lives to meet someone you've never met?"

Number 39 peeked out from under the lid of his pot and smiled a wide toothy grin. "How could we not? Everyone knows yeh—you guys are famous! Ah never thought Ah'd get to meet Numbahs Two and Three from the Kids Next Door Sector V!"

_To Be Continued_

_

* * *

_

**A/N**: AGH! The dreaded cliff hanger! Sorry this chapter was kind of lacking in the fluffies; I wanted to make sure I squished in enough details about Australia so that you got an idea of just where the group is traveling. Plus, I was bad and I threw in more original characters. I'm such a hypocrite--I tell everyone to try and avoid using them, so I make up five of my own. Let me know what you think about the new characters, especially Fran Hamdan, Wally's 'gram'. (My sister wanted to know why her last name isn't "Beetles"; it's because she's his mother's mother.) By the way, the sites that I used for research are listed in my bio at the bottom, so if you're interested, check them out!


	5. Pullin' up Stumps

**Disclaimer**: It's not mine. It's not yours. It's Warburton's, but we knew that.

**A/N**: No! I didn't die! I've been having some severe difficulties with my Internet connection lately (a long story about networking different computers and such—really, it's not an interesting tale) so my updates have been sluggish and my reviewing at a status quo of _zero_ over the past few weeks. My deepest and most sincere apologies, but I have no idea when this problem will be fixed. On the plus side, I loaded this onto a CD and uploaded it on my friend's computer, but I don't think she'll let me do it too often, so I have no clue when my next update is coming.

Also, with school in full swing and two AP/Honors classes on my schedule, things are getting pretty difficult and free time is sparse. Once again, my most sincere apologies for lack of reviews. Please don't eat my intestines. I need them.

This chapter is more of a 'foundations in characters' chapter and there's absolutely zero fluffy-ness. I'm sorry, once again, but I really thought it was necessary. Don't eat my intestines...please. I promise the next one will be super fluffy (or at least as much as I can manage)

Stripified: Wow, I feel like such a loser for keeping you waiting so long for a chapter that's not even remotely as good as its predecessor. I'm sorry, but thank you for your loyalty. (Just passing out the apologies here...)

Meh34: I haven't read any of your story updates lately, but according to the Aussie Slang site I use, a 'Happy Little Vegemite' is: "a happy and contented person. Derived from an advertising campaign recently revived where happy children eating Vegemite are described as happy little Vegemites."

Radiohead: Thank you for your compliments, I feel even guiltier for my lack of updating now than ever before.

And to all others, as stated before this isn't a fluffy chapter, it's a flashback-sequency sort of chapter. Sorry, once again.

* * *

Operation: AUSTRALIA

**Chapter Six**

Put Yeh Daks Back on an' Stop this Waffle!

_(Put Your Pants Back on and Stop this Nonsense!)_

It makes sense in due time...but hey, it sounds pretty darn funny, eh?

* * *

"Really, Mum, yeh can be so unreasonable sometimes!"

"Yeh think so? When Ah was your age Ah moved out an' bought meh own house! None 'o this moochin' off meh folks loike you kids today!"

Wally stood in the doorway in confusion while watching the argument. He tried to move, but his feet were bound to the ground by invisible ropes; he struggled with all his might, but nothing could pry them off the wooden floor. It all seemed very familiar to him...but from where?

The young woman sighed and stooped her shoulders in defeat, her shoulder-length blonde hair falling over her face. "Yeh' roight. But yeh know one'uv the reasons why Ah haven't moved out yet is because of yeh cooking."

A smile cracked across the old woman's face as she sat herself down on a nearby rickety rocking chair. "Ah knew yeh'd come clean," she sighed in relief. "Sorry 'bout 'at. Ah'm jus' a little stressed with everythin' that's goin' on lately."

"Ah know, Mum," the younger woman sighed exasperatedly. "Believe me, Ah know. Speakin' of _the problem_, where's Dad gotten off ta'?"

The older woman let out a disapproving grunt and kicked her scruffy slippered feet up onto the ottoman by the rocking chair. "Who knows? Ah certainly don't."

"Gram! Mum! It's me! Can yeh hear me?!" Wally uselessly hollered from across the room. "Aw, crud," he groaned and slid onto the floor. "Looks loike one'uv them stupid flashback sequence thingies," he sighed. "Why meh? Why can't they hear meh? Am Ah dead?" This new horror occurred to him, but he quickly stashed it to the back of his mind. "If Ah really was dead," he reasoned, "then Ah'd be with a bunch o' dead people, an' Gram is far from dead as far as Ah know."

The flashback continued as tall blonde man strolled into the room accompanied by another shorter man. The taller was smartly dressed in a crisp blue suit, whereas the shorter's face was dirty and he was wearing a simple t-shirt and khaki shorts. The shirt had presumably been white once before, but was far from clean. "Has anyone seen Dad?" the shorter one asked. "We've got a surprise for 'im."

The taller man nodded and eagerly held up a newspaper article circled in red. "It's a beautiful lot; an' besides, from wot Ah've heard the boss is planning on moving again."

"Really? Wonderful." The young woman replied flatly. "Skip," she turned to the shorter man. "Yeh'ra great brother an' all, but Ah can't help but feel that yeh're tryin' ta get us ta move out!" she snapped angrily and the shorter man back-pedaled several steps.

"It's not loike that, sis! Ah'm only tryin' ta help! An' besoides, we've all know that Wozza's probably goin' to be movin' with his company sooner or later!"

The taller man furrowed his lip and cast Skip a glare. "Don't call meh that," he remarked deeply.

"Wot?"

"Yeh know."

"Y'mean 'Wozza'?"

"My_ name's_ Warick."

"Ah know! But 'Wozza' is better!"

"Boys!" Fran bellowed from her rocking chair. "Ah don't care if yeh name wuz '_Fuzzy'_, Warick; roight now we've gotta find where Stan went. If he doesn't show up for dinner Ah'm gonna have to call the police and file anotha' missin' persons report."

The younger woman groaned and flopped onto a streaked moth-eaten green couch. "This'll be the _third_ time this week, Mum! Ah can't do this; none of meh friends call me anymore!" She began to wring her hands, her face bright red in anger against her pale hair. "'Wendy, where'd yeh _Dad_ run off ta?' or, 'Wanda, yeh _Dad's_ still runnin' around the countryside? Isn't it about time yeh sent 'im off to a nursin' home already?' Ah can't take it!"

"Calm down, Wenzi," Skip chirruped and plunked himself down next to the distraught woman on the couch. "Dad's jus' goin' through a phase, you'll see."

"Will yeh stop addin' on extra 'z's to meh name?!" she shrieked and gave Skip a sharp kick in the ankle. Warick watched on in silent amusement and exchanged glances with Fran.

"Wot wuzz_at_ for?!" Skip hollered and held his ankle in pain. "Ah'm only tryin' ta help!"

Wendy sighed and crossed her legs. "Dad's been in this so-called 'phase' for almost foive years. Ah think it's time for 'im to grow up and realise wot's real an' wot isn't. Besides..." she trailed off and looked across the room, directly where Wally was invisibly standing. "Think of how this is for Wally—he can't grow up thinkin' his Gramps is a nut."

Wally was taken aback by his mother's concern—and her eerie stare. It was almost as though she knew he was standing there. It had been a long time since he'd seen his family together in this house and it felt strange, but comforting.

"Speakin' of which, where is Wally?" Warick asked and scanned over the sitting room.

_Good question,_ Wally thought to himself. _Where exactly am Ah? Ah don' remember this before...?_

Wendy sighed. "He's sleeping in his room—that fishing trip yesterday really tired 'im out, yeh know."

Skip put on a boyish grin and his ears perked up. "That wuz the best fishin' trip Ah've _ever_ been on; the lil' buggerlugs izza natural!" He hopped up from his seat and skipped over to Warick. "Yeh remember, roight, Wozza?! Wozza an' me wuz tryin' for _hours_ to catch somethin' half-way decent, but all we could get was a buncha yabbies. But yeh shoulda seen the whopper Wallaby hooked!" Skip gave Warick a hearty smack on the back and the suited man rolled his eyes. "It's a bloody shame we couldn't a' stuffed it—woulda made a nice thing ta' put over the fireplace."

Wendy and Fran shook their heads in unison and Warick delicately pried Skip's grubby hand off the back of his suit. "Yeh gonna wake 'im up if yeh keep yeh earbashing." Warick grumbled and sat down next to Wendy on the couch. "Ah'm not sure if we have to move or not; but Mr. Boss wasn't very specific with the details so it's a possibility," he gave her a reassuring look and she smiled, both evidently ignoring Skip. "Ah jus' wanted to run it by yeh first so yeh knew about it," he continued.

"She'll be apples, Warick. Ah was just concerned about Dad."

At that moment, as though on cue, a grizzled man of about sixty crashed through the wooden front door and traipsed into the sitting room, his boots caked with mud and swamp grasses. A deep tan covered his face and arms from excessive outdoor activity and a wide-brimmed muddy brown hat slovenly lay atop his salt-and-pepper hair. His mouth was barely visible through the overabundant masses of wiry grizzle in the form a beard. "Yea, there! Is the tea ready yet? Ah've been cravin' that rissole yeh bought the other day, Fran, dear," the man boomed and shook his dirty face like a lion would its mane.

Wally stared in shock. It had been years since he had last seen his grandfather—was this the purpose of the overly-clichéd flashback sequence? He felt the overpowering urge to uproot himself and run to the old man, but his invisible bonds held fast.

"Stan!" the old woman exclaimed in a harsh whisper, her face etched with anger. "Where the bloody hell have yeh been all day?! Ah've been worried sick about yeh! An' keep it down; the boy's asleep!"

Stan gave the woman a hearty shrug and stooped over to unlace his boot. "Too late now, Fran. He's awake," he replied as a little boy scurried into the room and hopped up onto the old man's knee.

"Hullo, Grampie! Didja' git me anything?" The boy chirruped, his eyes shining from underneath his blonde bangs. "Ah was good whiles yeh were gone an' Ah kept yeh secret an' everythin'!" he exclaimed proudly and swung his orange pajama booties in the air. Stan laughed and slapped his dirty hat on the boy's head.

"Wot the heck?! Ah wasn't _that_ short!" Wally exclaimed from his invisible corner by the doorway, and then remembered no one could hear him. He continued to watch in amazement.

"Honestly, yeh two," Wendy cried and rose from her seat. "Ah just gave 'im a bath less than an _hour_ ago, Stan! Yeh don' know where that god-forsaken hat 'o yours has been!"

"Sure Ah do," the old man replied and set the boy back onto the floor. "The loikes of which yeh've neva seen, Ah'll tell yeh!" Younger Wally nodded in agreement, even though it was clear he hadn't understood a word, and he clutched the hat brim tightly around the sides of his head. Fran cast Stan a warning look and Warick averted his eyes from the scene uneasily.

Wendy glared, the fire returning to her eyes. "Ah've had _enough_ of this insanity! It's time yeh grew up and forgot about all this nonsense 'o yours, Dad. Look at wot it's doin' ta Wally! He's a growin' boy an' can't have his head filled with this waffle!"

"Waffle?" Young Wally asked innocently and gazed up at his mother. "Ah wanna waffle, Mum! Ah'm hungry."

Warick stepped over and kneeled down to face his son. "Wally, what yeh Mum's tryin' to say is that Gramps is bein'...ah....well, _silly_. Yeh know what Ah mean, roight?"

The small boy laughed and took the oversized hat off his head and gave it a tight hug. "Ah know what'cha mean, Dad. Gramps is _always_ silly!"

"Ah, but not _this_ time, Wally," Stan interrupted. "Yeh know how close Ah am to findin' the bunyip—why, jus' today Ah came across wot looked like the remains of an abandoned nest! Ah tell yeh, Ah'm so close Ah can smell it!" Stan exclaimed and began to take off his pants.

"_Dad_?!?! What in _flamin'_ tarts do yeh think yeh' _doin'_?!" Skip cried; the first time he had spoken since Stan arrived.

Stan shrugged and tossed his soiled trousers over his shoulder, looking quite foolish in his hunting coat and boxers. "Meh daks got grubby after runnin' through the swamp. Don't get all shirty with meh," he casually replied and Wendy let out an exasperated groan.

"Dad, seriously. It's time yeh stopped this," Wendy said sternly. "Yeh're wasting yeh time—yeh not as young as yeh used to be an' we need you _here_, not out gallivanting across the Bourke."

Stan froze and slowly raised his head, giving the young woman an icy glare. "Ah _am_ serious about this, Wendy. Dead serious, in fact. Ah don' want to hear anymore o' that from yeh again."

Wendy rose up from her seat and stared at her father straight in the eyes, her own glare equally icy. "So aren't _Ah_ serious, Dad. It's time yeh grew up. Yeh not a little kid anymore, an' Wally won't always be young. It's time yeh put yehself ta use and went back to work. An' if yeh not up to that, then the least you can do is file in to collect yeh pension. Poor Warick's been givin' it heaps at his job, but we can't afford to live loike this forever. Yeh need to contribute somethin'."

Wally stood in the doorway in amazement. It had been so long since he heard this discussion, and even now it remained an indecisive fog scattered amongst the rest of his memories. But this was clear, and everything seemed to fit into place. It all made sense to him.

"Can't afford it, eh?" Stan replied, his eyes shining through his grizzled hair with anger. "If Ah can find mehself a bunyip, a real live bunyip, we won't need ta work _ever_ again. Hell, we could stick Wally through college _foive_ times if we wanted teh," Stan glanced over at Skip, who had been nervously silent throughout the majority of the conversation. "An' yeh too, Skip. Ah don't think that college served yeh too much good—yeh still got too much empty space between yeh ears. Ah'd send yeh back to college too; a man's head isn't just for keeping his hair off the floor."

"Dad, there is _no_ bunyip an' there never will be. It's time to give it up an' move on," Wendy replied quietly.

Fire blared in the old man's eyes. "Yeh don' _lissen_! There's a bunyip—all o' _Australia_ knows it, but no one's ever caught it—not yet, an' Ah'm gonna be the _first_," he boomed and younger Wally scurried away from the livid old man and hid behind his mother, still clutching the hat. "As long as yeh livin' under _meh_ roof yeh follow _meh_ rules." (**A/N**: How many times have we heard _that_ one??)

"In _that_ case," Wendy cried and snatched up the newspaper from Warick's hand, holding it in front of Stan's face. "Ah _won't_ live under yeh cruddy 'roof' anymore! Warick's bein' relocated for his job, so we're movin' out!!" the woman hollered, her face red with fury. It was the first time Wally realized how temperamental his family truly was.

This news came as a crushing blow to the old man. He stood dumbstruck in his hunting coat and boxer shorts, his pants still slung over his left shoulder and the mud from his boots gathering in a murky puddle by his feet. Nobody said anything and the silence hanging in the air was suffocating. Wally felt as though he could scream, but no sound came and he stood, helpless and silent.

Warick began to wring his hands, his eyes nervously darting from the newspaper article to Stan's eyes while Skip merely stood in the center of the room, his own gaze never leaving his sister's face.

"If that's what yeh want," Stan replied finally, his voice dangerously soft. "But don't say Ah didn't warn yeh. Once yeh leave yeh can't ever come back to the way it was before," he remarked and turned on his heel towards the door.

"Stan, where're yeh goin'?!" Fran cried frantically as she tried to rise from the rocking chair. "Ah thought yeh wanted ta eat!"

The man walked from the room in silence and slammed the front door. The group stood in silence and younger Wally sat on the floor, still holding his grandfather's hat. "Do Ah get meh waffle _now_, Mum?" he asked quietly.

Wendy nodded, still staring off at the closed door. "Yea, Wally, yeh can have yeh waffle now."

"That old _fool_," Skip spat angrily and began to stride out of the room in fury. "He didn't even bother ta put his daks back on before he left," he choked back grieving sob and turned a corner as he left the room.

Wally stood in the threshold of the room, studying his mother's face while a strange hollow feeling began to well up in his stomach. Or at least, it felt like his stomach—he didn't care anymore; nothing seemed to matter. _Ah had no idea..._ he thought. All those years he never had a clear picture of what happened, he had managed to piece together the fragments of conversations and stories.... The scene blurred and he felt himself losing consciousness as the floor slipped out from underneath him.

* * *

"So tell me, uh...Number 38....do you usually travel like this?"

Number 38 tilted the pot atop his head forward and gave a shrug, not bothering to turn around. "Underground is the only way ta' travel if yeh wanna get to where we're goin'. It's a loooong way to Kids Next Door Australian Base from here, yeh don' really wanna walk all that way, do yeh?"

Tommy groaned and bit his lip in frustration, continuing to walk behind Numbers 38 and 39 down the dark dirt tunnel. It wasn't as though he was claustrophobic or anything, but the tunnel gave him the creeps. Plus, it wasn't exactly a pleasant walk—he and Mushi were still toting around their luggage from the airport and his bag wasn't very light.

"How much longer till we get to the...um...." Mushi scratched her head as she dragged her little yellow suitcase behind her, trying to keep up with the rest of the group. "What's it called again?"

Number 39 scuffed his feet in the dirt as he walked along the tunnel. "It's the neatest thing, really it is; yeh get to ride on our **R**.**O**.**D**.**E**.**N**.**T**.; the **R**apidly **O**perating **D**igging **E**ngine **N**avigated **T**unneler. Yeh'll love it!"

Tommy's previous annoyance quickly dissipated. "Really? How's it work?!"

"Well, it's kinda loike a gigantic jackhammer thingy...." Number 39 gave his older brother a kick. "Hey, 38, how's the **R**.**O**.**D**.**E**.**N**.**T**. work? Ah dunno how ta explain it."

Number 38 continued down the path and raised his eyes to the dirt ceiling in thought. "Erm....well, Ah think yeh descroibed it about roight, yeh jus' gonna have to wait until yeh see it for yourself, Numbah Two," 38 answered after a moment's thought.

Something unpleasant lurched in Tommy's stomach. Ever since he and Mushi had decided to go along and pretend to be Numbers Two and Three of Sector V after 38 and 39 had mistaken them so, he'd been on the edge. Every second he was afraid they'd figure out their lie and leave them all alone in Australia, or even worse, in the tunnel they were traveling.

However, there was a possibility that the consequences could be much more serious, though Tommy had immediately blocked the idea out of his mind—it was too horrible to consider. It was possible that 38 and 39 could report them to the Australian KND base, and they would have their membership qualifications suspended. Tommy was at no risk—he had already been decommissioned, so to speak, so even if he were discredited from his opportunity to register it wouldn't matter. Mushi, on the other hand, wouldn't be so lucky. She'd be immediately dispelled from the KND system and come graduation time she wouldn't be certified—to put it bluntly, they'd never allow her to become a member, and joining the KND was perhaps one of her biggest goals. Tommy didn't think he'd be able to live through the guilt of being the cause of her premature expulsion; it was too dreadful to think about.

To take his mind off the matter, he began to absentmindedly study the path, his eyes glued to the ground. Hopefully they wouldn't be discovered—and if they were the punishment might not be so severe if he knew where the real Sector V was, though Tommy doubted he'd be that lucky; he didn't even know where he was himself. Suddenly, Numbers 38 and 39 halted in front of him and he walked into 39, sending the small boy crashing over into his brother like dominos.

"_Ouch_! Hey, watch where yeh're goin'!"

"Sorry!"

Number 38 twisted the pot on his head by the handle and gestured to the large pile of rocks blocking the path ahead. "Behold, the **R**.**O**.**D**.**E**.**N**.**T**.! Yeh'll neva see another one, so take notice, kay?"

"Um....it's a bunch of rocks?"

"No, it's _under_ the rocks. For camy-flogue. Y'know, from the predators an' such."

"Underground?"

"Yeh can't be too careful."

"What's going to attack it underground? Rabid moles or something?"

"Exac-tally!" Number 39 quipped and began to do another random victory dance in circles around his irritated brother.

Mushi shrugged and yanked her yellow bag by the handle. "Whatever. Let's get going to the Australian base, we don't have time to lose!"

Numbers 38 and 39 hastily straightened and gave Mushi a stiff salute. She grinned and nodded in approval. Tommy was impressed—she was _definitely_ enjoying her role, though if the two Aussies had any idea what the real Number Three was like they wouldn't be so believing.

"Let's get goin' then, loike the sheila says," Number 38 announced and ran over to the mound of rocks and punched a boulder on the side. Mushi winced; it looked painful. As though an invisible trigger was released, the pile of rubble fell away, revealing a giant mecha shaped like a rat with a razor-like drill for a nose. Tommy and Mushi stared in awe, the falling rock resonating through the cavern.

"Whoa..." Tommy breathed. "That's one big rat." Mushi nodded in agreement.

Number 38 puffed his overall-clad chest in pride. "Yeh _bet_ she is! Ready to roide?"

Tommy and Mushi nodded dumbly. What more was there to say? It was a pretty impressive robot...rat...thingy. (**A/N**: I'm horrible with mechanical descriptions. Bear with me and use your imagination!) Number 39 hopped onto the top of the robot's hunched metal head and snapped back a window latch where the 'eyes' of the rat were positioned. With a shriek of enthusiasm he hopped into the cockpit and strapped in the seatbelt, the other three following suit.

"Ah can't wait! This is meh first time ridin' in the **R**.**O**.**D**.**E**.**N**.**T**.!" Number 39 squeaked and banged his fists on his pot helmet, sending echoes across the cavern.

Number 38 rubbed the palms of his hands together in anticipation as the cockpit window shield closed over them and the engine roared to life. "Yeah...me too," he grinned and forcefully pushed forward a large red lever, the drill whirring through the tunnel at unfathomable speed. After a moment watching the fascinating drill, the **R**.**O**.**D**.**E**.**N**.**T**. lurched through the cavern at supersonic speed.

Tommy felt his stomach slam against his ribcage and he let out a gargled scream. Mushi on his left managed to maintain a calmer reaction and hollered to Number 38, "Do—you—have—a—license—for—this—thing—?!" her head slammed against the back of the seat from the extreme inertia.

Number 38 didn't take his eyes off the control panel, but he mustered up a toothy grin while the cavern scenery whizzed past. "Not yet, but don't yeh worry, Numbah Three. It's on meh Christmas list."

* * *

**A/N**: Man, I love that line. Once again I shower you all with devout apologies and free invisible candy. I felt this chapter was an added bonus for some insight into Wally's family life. I think I was experiencing some frustration at not getting admitted into the creative writing course at school—the class was too large, but I'll try again next year. Plus, if anyone's curious, 'waffle' is slang for 'nonsense', and 'daks' means 'trousers or pants', just in case you didn't catch it. Please don't eat my intestines, I'm sorry!!


	6. Hang on to Yeh Daks

**Disclaimer**: It's not mine. It's not yours. It's Warburton's, but we knew that.

**A/N**: No! I didn't die! I've been having some severe difficulties with my Internet connection lately (a long story about networking different computers and such—really, it's not an interesting tale) so my updates have been sluggish and my reviewing at a status quo of _zero_ over the past few weeks. My deepest and most sincere apologies, but I have no idea when this problem will be fixed. On the plus side, I loaded this onto a CD and uploaded it on my friend's computer, but I don't think she'll let me do it too often, so I have no clue when my next update is coming.

Also, with school in full swing and two AP/Honors classes on my schedule, things are getting pretty difficult and free time is sparse. Once again, my most sincere apologies for lack of reviews. Please don't eat my intestines. I need them.

This chapter is more of a 'foundations in characters' chapter and there's absolutely zero fluffy-ness. I'm sorry, once again, but I really thought it was necessary. Don't eat my intestines...please. I promise the next one will be super fluffy (or at least as much as I can manage)

Stripified: Wow, I feel like such a loser for keeping you waiting so long for a chapter that's not even remotely as good as its predecessor. I'm sorry, but thank you for your loyalty. (Just passing out the apologies here...)

Meh34: I haven't read any of your story updates lately, but according to the Aussie Slang site I use, a 'Happy Little Vegemite' is: "a happy and contented person. Derived from an advertising campaign recently revived where happy children eating Vegemite are described as happy little Vegemites."

Radiohead: Thank you for your compliments, I feel even guiltier for my lack of updating now than ever before.

And to all others, as stated before this isn't a fluffy chapter, it's a flashback-sequency sort of chapter. Sorry, once again.

* * *

Operation: AUSTRALIA

**Chapter Six**

Put Yeh Daks Back on an' Stop this Waffle!

_(Put Your Pants Back on and Stop this Nonsense!)_

It makes sense in due time...but hey, it sounds pretty darn funny, eh?

* * *

"Really, Mum, yeh can be so unreasonable sometimes!"

"Yeh think so? When Ah was your age Ah moved out an' bought meh own house! None 'o this moochin' off meh folks loike you kids today!"

Wally stood in the doorway in confusion while watching the argument. He tried to move, but his feet were bound to the ground by invisible ropes; he struggled with all his might, but nothing could pry them off the wooden floor. It all seemed very familiar to him...but from where?

The young woman sighed and stooped her shoulders in defeat, her shoulder-length blonde hair falling over her face. "Yeh' roight. But yeh know one'uv the reasons why Ah haven't moved out yet is because of yeh cooking."

A smile cracked across the old woman's face as she sat herself down on a nearby rickety rocking chair. "Ah knew yeh'd come clean," she sighed in relief. "Sorry 'bout 'at. Ah'm jus' a little stressed with everythin' that's goin' on lately."

"Ah know, Mum," the younger woman sighed exasperatedly. "Believe me, Ah know. Speakin' of _the problem_, where's Dad gotten off ta'?"

The older woman let out a disapproving grunt and kicked her scruffy slippered feet up onto the ottoman by the rocking chair. "Who knows? Ah certainly don't."

"Gram! Mum! It's me! Can yeh hear me?!" Wally uselessly hollered from across the room. "Aw, crud," he groaned and slid onto the floor. "Looks loike one'uv them stupid flashback sequence thingies," he sighed. "Why meh? Why can't they hear meh? Am Ah dead?" This new horror occurred to him, but he quickly stashed it to the back of his mind. "If Ah really was dead," he reasoned, "then Ah'd be with a bunch o' dead people, an' Gram is far from dead as far as Ah know."

The flashback continued as tall blonde man strolled into the room accompanied by another shorter man. The taller was smartly dressed in a crisp blue suit, whereas the shorter's face was dirty and he was wearing a simple t-shirt and khaki shorts. The shirt had presumably been white once before, but was far from clean. "Has anyone seen Dad?" the shorter one asked. "We've got a surprise for 'im."

The taller man nodded and eagerly held up a newspaper article circled in red. "It's a beautiful lot; an' besides, from wot Ah've heard the boss is planning on moving again."

"Really? Wonderful." The young woman replied flatly. "Skip," she turned to the shorter man. "Yeh'ra great brother an' all, but Ah can't help but feel that yeh're tryin' ta get us ta move out!" she snapped angrily and the shorter man back-pedaled several steps.

"It's not loike that, sis! Ah'm only tryin' ta help! An' besoides, we've all know that Wozza's probably goin' to be movin' with his company sooner or later!"

The taller man furrowed his lip and cast Skip a glare. "Don't call meh that," he remarked deeply.

"Wot?"

"Yeh know."

"Y'mean 'Wozza'?"

"My_ name's_ Warick."

"Ah know! But 'Wozza' is better!"

"Boys!" Fran bellowed from her rocking chair. "Ah don't care if yeh name wuz '_Fuzzy'_, Warick; roight now we've gotta find where Stan went. If he doesn't show up for dinner Ah'm gonna have to call the police and file anotha' missin' persons report."

The younger woman groaned and flopped onto a streaked moth-eaten green couch. "This'll be the _third_ time this week, Mum! Ah can't do this; none of meh friends call me anymore!" She began to wring her hands, her face bright red in anger against her pale hair. "'Wendy, where'd yeh _Dad_ run off ta?' or, 'Wanda, yeh _Dad's_ still runnin' around the countryside? Isn't it about time yeh sent 'im off to a nursin' home already?' Ah can't take it!"

"Calm down, Wenzi," Skip chirruped and plunked himself down next to the distraught woman on the couch. "Dad's jus' goin' through a phase, you'll see."

"Will yeh stop addin' on extra 'z's to meh name?!" she shrieked and gave Skip a sharp kick in the ankle. Warick watched on in silent amusement and exchanged glances with Fran.

"Wot wuzz_at_ for?!" Skip hollered and held his ankle in pain. "Ah'm only tryin' ta help!"

Wendy sighed and crossed her legs. "Dad's been in this so-called 'phase' for almost foive years. Ah think it's time for 'im to grow up and realise wot's real an' wot isn't. Besides..." she trailed off and looked across the room, directly where Wally was invisibly standing. "Think of how this is for Wally—he can't grow up thinkin' his Gramps is a nut."

Wally was taken aback by his mother's concern—and her eerie stare. It was almost as though she knew he was standing there. It had been a long time since he'd seen his family together in this house and it felt strange, but comforting.

"Speakin' of which, where is Wally?" Warick asked and scanned over the sitting room.

_Good question,_ Wally thought to himself. _Where exactly am Ah? Ah don' remember this before...?_

Wendy sighed. "He's sleeping in his room—that fishing trip yesterday really tired 'im out, yeh know."

Skip put on a boyish grin and his ears perked up. "That wuz the best fishin' trip Ah've _ever_ been on; the lil' buggerlugs izza natural!" He hopped up from his seat and skipped over to Warick. "Yeh remember, roight, Wozza?! Wozza an' me wuz tryin' for _hours_ to catch somethin' half-way decent, but all we could get was a buncha yabbies. But yeh shoulda seen the whopper Wallaby hooked!" Skip gave Warick a hearty smack on the back and the suited man rolled his eyes. "It's a bloody shame we couldn't a' stuffed it—woulda made a nice thing ta' put over the fireplace."

Wendy and Fran shook their heads in unison and Warick delicately pried Skip's grubby hand off the back of his suit. "Yeh gonna wake 'im up if yeh keep yeh earbashing." Warick grumbled and sat down next to Wendy on the couch. "Ah'm not sure if we have to move or not; but Mr. Boss wasn't very specific with the details so it's a possibility," he gave her a reassuring look and she smiled, both evidently ignoring Skip. "Ah jus' wanted to run it by yeh first so yeh knew about it," he continued.

"She'll be apples, Warick. Ah was just concerned about Dad."

At that moment, as though on cue, a grizzled man of about sixty crashed through the wooden front door and traipsed into the sitting room, his boots caked with mud and swamp grasses. A deep tan covered his face and arms from excessive outdoor activity and a wide-brimmed muddy brown hat slovenly lay atop his salt-and-pepper hair. His mouth was barely visible through the overabundant masses of wiry grizzle in the form a beard. "Yea, there! Is the tea ready yet? Ah've been cravin' that rissole yeh bought the other day, Fran, dear," the man boomed and shook his dirty face like a lion would its mane.

Wally stared in shock. It had been years since he had last seen his grandfather—was this the purpose of the overly-clichéd flashback sequence? He felt the overpowering urge to uproot himself and run to the old man, but his invisible bonds held fast.

"Stan!" the old woman exclaimed in a harsh whisper, her face etched with anger. "Where the bloody hell have yeh been all day?! Ah've been worried sick about yeh! An' keep it down; the boy's asleep!"

Stan gave the woman a hearty shrug and stooped over to unlace his boot. "Too late now, Fran. He's awake," he replied as a little boy scurried into the room and hopped up onto the old man's knee.

"Hullo, Grampie! Didja' git me anything?" The boy chirruped, his eyes shining from underneath his blonde bangs. "Ah was good whiles yeh were gone an' Ah kept yeh secret an' everythin'!" he exclaimed proudly and swung his orange pajama booties in the air. Stan laughed and slapped his dirty hat on the boy's head.

"Wot the heck?! Ah wasn't _that_ short!" Wally exclaimed from his invisible corner by the doorway, and then remembered no one could hear him. He continued to watch in amazement.

"Honestly, yeh two," Wendy cried and rose from her seat. "Ah just gave 'im a bath less than an _hour_ ago, Stan! Yeh don' know where that god-forsaken hat 'o yours has been!"

"Sure Ah do," the old man replied and set the boy back onto the floor. "The loikes of which yeh've neva seen, Ah'll tell yeh!" Younger Wally nodded in agreement, even though it was clear he hadn't understood a word, and he clutched the hat brim tightly around the sides of his head. Fran cast Stan a warning look and Warick averted his eyes from the scene uneasily.

Wendy glared, the fire returning to her eyes. "Ah've had _enough_ of this insanity! It's time yeh grew up and forgot about all this nonsense 'o yours, Dad. Look at wot it's doin' ta Wally! He's a growin' boy an' can't have his head filled with this waffle!"

"Waffle?" Young Wally asked innocently and gazed up at his mother. "Ah wanna waffle, Mum! Ah'm hungry."

Warick stepped over and kneeled down to face his son. "Wally, what yeh Mum's tryin' to say is that Gramps is bein'...ah....well, _silly_. Yeh know what Ah mean, roight?"

The small boy laughed and took the oversized hat off his head and gave it a tight hug. "Ah know what'cha mean, Dad. Gramps is _always_ silly!"

"Ah, but not _this_ time, Wally," Stan interrupted. "Yeh know how close Ah am to findin' the bunyip—why, jus' today Ah came across wot looked like the remains of an abandoned nest! Ah tell yeh, Ah'm so close Ah can smell it!" Stan exclaimed and began to take off his pants.

"_Dad_?!?! What in _flamin'_ tarts do yeh think yeh' _doin'_?!" Skip cried; the first time he had spoken since Stan arrived.

Stan shrugged and tossed his soiled trousers over his shoulder, looking quite foolish in his hunting coat and boxers. "Meh daks got grubby after runnin' through the swamp. Don't get all shirty with meh," he casually replied and Wendy let out an exasperated groan.

"Dad, seriously. It's time yeh stopped this," Wendy said sternly. "Yeh're wasting yeh time—yeh not as young as yeh used to be an' we need you _here_, not out gallivanting across the Bourke."

Stan froze and slowly raised his head, giving the young woman an icy glare. "Ah _am_ serious about this, Wendy. Dead serious, in fact. Ah don' want to hear anymore o' that from yeh again."

Wendy rose up from her seat and stared at her father straight in the eyes, her own glare equally icy. "So aren't _Ah_ serious, Dad. It's time yeh grew up. Yeh not a little kid anymore, an' Wally won't always be young. It's time yeh put yehself ta use and went back to work. An' if yeh not up to that, then the least you can do is file in to collect yeh pension. Poor Warick's been givin' it heaps at his job, but we can't afford to live loike this forever. Yeh need to contribute somethin'."

Wally stood in the doorway in amazement. It had been so long since he heard this discussion, and even now it remained an indecisive fog scattered amongst the rest of his memories. But this was clear, and everything seemed to fit into place. It all made sense to him.

"Can't afford it, eh?" Stan replied, his eyes shining through his grizzled hair with anger. "If Ah can find mehself a bunyip, a real live bunyip, we won't need ta work _ever_ again. Hell, we could stick Wally through college _foive_ times if we wanted teh," Stan glanced over at Skip, who had been nervously silent throughout the majority of the conversation. "An' yeh too, Skip. Ah don't think that college served yeh too much good—yeh still got too much empty space between yeh ears. Ah'd send yeh back to college too; a man's head isn't just for keeping his hair off the floor."

"Dad, there is _no_ bunyip an' there never will be. It's time to give it up an' move on," Wendy replied quietly.

Fire blared in the old man's eyes. "Yeh don' _lissen_! There's a bunyip—all o' _Australia_ knows it, but no one's ever caught it—not yet, an' Ah'm gonna be the _first_," he boomed and younger Wally scurried away from the livid old man and hid behind his mother, still clutching the hat. "As long as yeh livin' under _meh_ roof yeh follow _meh_ rules." (**A/N**: How many times have we heard _that_ one??)

"In _that_ case," Wendy cried and snatched up the newspaper from Warick's hand, holding it in front of Stan's face. "Ah _won't_ live under yeh cruddy 'roof' anymore! Warick's bein' relocated for his job, so we're movin' out!!" the woman hollered, her face red with fury. It was the first time Wally realized how temperamental his family truly was.

This news came as a crushing blow to the old man. He stood dumbstruck in his hunting coat and boxer shorts, his pants still slung over his left shoulder and the mud from his boots gathering in a murky puddle by his feet. Nobody said anything and the silence hanging in the air was suffocating. Wally felt as though he could scream, but no sound came and he stood, helpless and silent.

Warick began to wring his hands, his eyes nervously darting from the newspaper article to Stan's eyes while Skip merely stood in the center of the room, his own gaze never leaving his sister's face.

"If that's what yeh want," Stan replied finally, his voice dangerously soft. "But don't say Ah didn't warn yeh. Once yeh leave yeh can't ever come back to the way it was before," he remarked and turned on his heel towards the door.

"Stan, where're yeh goin'?!" Fran cried frantically as she tried to rise from the rocking chair. "Ah thought yeh wanted ta eat!"

The man walked from the room in silence and slammed the front door. The group stood in silence and younger Wally sat on the floor, still holding his grandfather's hat. "Do Ah get meh waffle _now_, Mum?" he asked quietly.

Wendy nodded, still staring off at the closed door. "Yea, Wally, yeh can have yeh waffle now."

"That old _fool_," Skip spat angrily and began to stride out of the room in fury. "He didn't even bother ta put his daks back on before he left," he choked back grieving sob and turned a corner as he left the room.

Wally stood in the threshold of the room, studying his mother's face while a strange hollow feeling began to well up in his stomach. Or at least, it felt like his stomach—he didn't care anymore; nothing seemed to matter. _Ah had no idea..._ he thought. All those years he never had a clear picture of what happened, he had managed to piece together the fragments of conversations and stories.... The scene blurred and he felt himself losing consciousness as the floor slipped out from underneath him.

* * *

"So tell me, uh...Number 38....do you usually travel like this?"

Number 38 tilted the pot atop his head forward and gave a shrug, not bothering to turn around. "Underground is the only way ta' travel if yeh wanna get to where we're goin'. It's a loooong way to Kids Next Door Australian Base from here, yeh don' really wanna walk all that way, do yeh?"

Tommy groaned and bit his lip in frustration, continuing to walk behind Numbers 38 and 39 down the dark dirt tunnel. It wasn't as though he was claustrophobic or anything, but the tunnel gave him the creeps. Plus, it wasn't exactly a pleasant walk—he and Mushi were still toting around their luggage from the airport and his bag wasn't very light.

"How much longer till we get to the...um...." Mushi scratched her head as she dragged her little yellow suitcase behind her, trying to keep up with the rest of the group. "What's it called again?"

Number 39 scuffed his feet in the dirt as he walked along the tunnel. "It's the neatest thing, really it is; yeh get to ride on our **R**.**O**.**D**.**E**.**N**.**T**.; the **R**apidly **O**perating **D**igging **E**ngine **N**avigated **T**unneler. Yeh'll love it!"

Tommy's previous annoyance quickly dissipated. "Really? How's it work?!"

"Well, it's kinda loike a gigantic jackhammer thingy...." Number 39 gave his older brother a kick. "Hey, 38, how's the **R**.**O**.**D**.**E**.**N**.**T**. work? Ah dunno how ta explain it."

Number 38 continued down the path and raised his eyes to the dirt ceiling in thought. "Erm....well, Ah think yeh descroibed it about roight, yeh jus' gonna have to wait until yeh see it for yourself, Numbah Two," 38 answered after a moment's thought.

Something unpleasant lurched in Tommy's stomach. Ever since he and Mushi had decided to go along and pretend to be Numbers Two and Three of Sector V after 38 and 39 had mistaken them so, he'd been on the edge. Every second he was afraid they'd figure out their lie and leave them all alone in Australia, or even worse, in the tunnel they were traveling.

However, there was a possibility that the consequences could be much more serious, though Tommy had immediately blocked the idea out of his mind—it was too horrible to consider. It was possible that 38 and 39 could report them to the Australian KND base, and they would have their membership qualifications suspended. Tommy was at no risk—he had already been decommissioned, so to speak, so even if he were discredited from his opportunity to register it wouldn't matter. Mushi, on the other hand, wouldn't be so lucky. She'd be immediately dispelled from the KND system and come graduation time she wouldn't be certified—to put it bluntly, they'd never allow her to become a member, and joining the KND was perhaps one of her biggest goals. Tommy didn't think he'd be able to live through the guilt of being the cause of her premature expulsion; it was too dreadful to think about.

To take his mind off the matter, he began to absentmindedly study the path, his eyes glued to the ground. Hopefully they wouldn't be discovered—and if they were the punishment might not be so severe if he knew where the real Sector V was, though Tommy doubted he'd be that lucky; he didn't even know where he was himself. Suddenly, Numbers 38 and 39 halted in front of him and he walked into 39, sending the small boy crashing over into his brother like dominos.

"_Ouch_! Hey, watch where yeh're goin'!"

"Sorry!"

Number 38 twisted the pot on his head by the handle and gestured to the large pile of rocks blocking the path ahead. "Behold, the **R**.**O**.**D**.**E**.**N**.**T**.! Yeh'll neva see another one, so take notice, kay?"

"Um....it's a bunch of rocks?"

"No, it's _under_ the rocks. For camy-flogue. Y'know, from the predators an' such."

"Underground?"

"Yeh can't be too careful."

"What's going to attack it underground? Rabid moles or something?"

"Exac-tally!" Number 39 quipped and began to do another random victory dance in circles around his irritated brother.

Mushi shrugged and yanked her yellow bag by the handle. "Whatever. Let's get going to the Australian base, we don't have time to lose!"

Numbers 38 and 39 hastily straightened and gave Mushi a stiff salute. She grinned and nodded in approval. Tommy was impressed—she was _definitely_ enjoying her role, though if the two Aussies had any idea what the real Number Three was like they wouldn't be so believing.

"Let's get goin' then, loike the sheila says," Number 38 announced and ran over to the mound of rocks and punched a boulder on the side. Mushi winced; it looked painful. As though an invisible trigger was released, the pile of rubble fell away, revealing a giant mecha shaped like a rat with a razor-like drill for a nose. Tommy and Mushi stared in awe, the falling rock resonating through the cavern.

"Whoa..." Tommy breathed. "That's one big rat." Mushi nodded in agreement.

Number 38 puffed his overall-clad chest in pride. "Yeh _bet_ she is! Ready to roide?"

Tommy and Mushi nodded dumbly. What more was there to say? It was a pretty impressive robot...rat...thingy. (**A/N**: I'm horrible with mechanical descriptions. Bear with me and use your imagination!) Number 39 hopped onto the top of the robot's hunched metal head and snapped back a window latch where the 'eyes' of the rat were positioned. With a shriek of enthusiasm he hopped into the cockpit and strapped in the seatbelt, the other three following suit.

"Ah can't wait! This is meh first time ridin' in the **R**.**O**.**D**.**E**.**N**.**T**.!" Number 39 squeaked and banged his fists on his pot helmet, sending echoes across the cavern.

Number 38 rubbed the palms of his hands together in anticipation as the cockpit window shield closed over them and the engine roared to life. "Yeah...me too," he grinned and forcefully pushed forward a large red lever, the drill whirring through the tunnel at unfathomable speed. After a moment watching the fascinating drill, the **R**.**O**.**D**.**E**.**N**.**T**. lurched through the cavern at supersonic speed.

Tommy felt his stomach slam against his ribcage and he let out a gargled scream. Mushi on his left managed to maintain a calmer reaction and hollered to Number 38, "Do—you—have—a—license—for—this—thing—?!" her head slammed against the back of the seat from the extreme inertia.

Number 38 didn't take his eyes off the control panel, but he mustered up a toothy grin while the cavern scenery whizzed past. "Not yet, but don't yeh worry, Numbah Three. It's on meh Christmas list."

* * *

**A/N**: Man, I love that line. Once again I shower you all with devout apologies and free invisible candy. I felt this chapter was an added bonus for some insight into Wally's family life. I think I was experiencing some frustration at not getting admitted into the creative writing course at school—the class was too large, but I'll try again next year. Plus, if anyone's curious, 'waffle' is slang for 'nonsense', and 'daks' means 'trousers or pants', just in case you didn't catch it. Please don't eat my intestines, I'm sorry!!


	7. A Horse and Hosed Rescue

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. Nothing! NOTHING!!!

**A/N**: Any previous faith that my small scope of readers had in me, I am sure, has thus since perished or evaporated into the atmosphere. I've been completely absorbed in my biology class these past few weeks, which has drained all of my free time for anything except eating and sleeping. I have, in a sense, become a slave to my textbook. I apologize for the severely delayed update.

* * *

Operation: AUSTRALIA

**Chapter Seven**

A Home and Hosed Rescue

_(A Successful Rescue Mission)_

Wow, guess what that's about....(sarcasm...)

* * *

"Man, how mucha dat ketchup are you gonna put on ya chilidawg, Hoagie?" Abby groaned and leaned up against the snack shack's grimy counter, her own chilidog sitting limply in her palm.

Hoagie flashed a humorous grin. "I want to see how much I can handle. Wanna make a bet?"

"Sure. I betcho're gonna barf that all ova' the shack if you eat it. Now hand over that ketchup!"

"Fine, fine." Hoagie grumbled and reluctantly passed her the half-empty bottle. He paused and sniffed the air. "Hey, do you smell something burning?"

"Huh?" Abby froze and perked her head attentively. "Yeah, somethin's definitely burnin'. Let's take a look," she replied and left her chilidog on the counter, hurriedly running out of the shack.

"Wait for me, Abby!" Hoagie protested and paused, looking at her abandoned chilidog hungrily. "She won't notice," he added and wolfed down her snack along with his own and ran through the door outside.

"Hoagie!!" called Nigel and Kuki, who were standing by Fran's jeep. Hoagie glanced at the group and shifted his attention to the small square restroom addition by the gas station's main office. Thick black smoke was curling from the windows. He wiped the ketchup from the side of his mouth and ran over to rejoin the rest of the group.

"What's going on?" he asked breathlessly and rubbed the sweat out from under his aviation goggles.

Nigel's face was in a firm frown. "A fire's just broken out in the restroom! Have you seen Wally? We're trying to regroup."

"Wally? I thought...he was...with you guys..." Hoagie replied, gasping for air as he swallowed down the aftertaste of the chilidogs.

Abby came running up with Kick and Fran behind her. "We can't find 'im. Have you guys seen him?" Nigel solemnly shook his head and Hoagie grimaced.

Kick watched the restrooms burning in mild amusement, his hands shoved into his grubby pockets. "That's a nice tint'a smoke, yeh?" The children stared at the heavy balding man in horror. With his casual on-looker attitude it seemed as though he watched his restrooms burst into flames on a regular basis, and it was no big deal to him.

"Mr. Kick," Nigel began degradingly, as an adult would scold a child, "you _do_ realize that your bathroom is on fire, correct?"

Kick let out a wheezy laugh, his dusty hair plastered to his sweaty forehead. "Ah could care less! Ah'm scheduled ta have the restrooms remodeled next week anyways. This makes the job easier on the demolition team."

Fran nodded her head in understanding. "Yeah, that makes heaps of sense, Ah guess," she broke off in mid-sentence as Phyllis walked over to the crowd, her purse daintily slung over her shoulder.

"What is going on here?" she asked inquisitively, her voice aridly unfriendly as she glared at the children as though the mysterious fire had been their responsibility. "Where is everyone?"

"Everyone's here but Wally," Nigel answered and cast the woman an equally distasteful glare.

Phyllis pursed her lips in aversion. "Oh? Where's the little girl in green? I thought she was with you."

Nigel froze and scanned the faces in his group. "Kuki?"

Hoagie and Abby exchanged glances. "Wasn't she jus' here?" Abby asked, her voice slightly wavering. In unison the group turned their attention to the burning restrooms and watched in horror as a small green figure ran towards the building.

* * *

Adrenaline is a fickle thing. In times of dire emergency it can rise to the challenge and enable its host with unforeseen powers and abilities; rendering them capable of what was previously unimaginable. Those who recognize and harness this temporary enhancement become, in a sense, fleeting heroes and are remember thus for doing so. The majority of us, however, live the remainder of our lives in shadowed humiliation; constantly reminded of what we could and would have done had we mustered up the audacity to do so.

It wasn't the first time she had seen a fire. Fragments of memory still haunted her subconscious of the ritual school drills for fire, tsunami, and earthquake. A lofty, self-assured voice had always comforted her with the notion that such disasters would never befall her, and that they were only taught on the notion that there was a minimal possibility of their occurrence.

Never had she imagined that she would face such a disaster and under such circumstances. Whenever she imagined it, the disaster would take place at school; the class would file out of the building in a neat single line, the brave firefighters would extinguish the flames, and perhaps, if they were blessed with good fortune, the building would be rendered damaged and unsatisfactory, thus granting the students with a much-appreciated and unforeseen vacation.

Kuki swerved to her right, passing by the two front doors and headed to the far side of the building. Her actions were foolish—that she was aware of—but to burst into a flaming building through the front door would be even more foolish. She glanced up at the narrow window closely hinged below the flat roof.

A dirty abandoned Ford Mustang sat underneath the window, some discarded project from Kick's earlier days. Decayed and forsaken, its windshield was heavily caked with generations of grime, dirt, and other unknown particles of filth. Kuki drew her mouth in a tight frown and scampered atop the hood of the car, all the while praying it would support her weight. The window was just in her reach—she jumped off the hood and scraped the ground, grabbed a handful of rocks into her fist, and then pelted them at the window. The rocks shattered the glass and plumes of dark smoke erupted from within the building.

As she fumbled back atop the car, it occurred to her that she was breaking and entering into the boys' bathroom—something she had never even remotely dreamed of doing—and she gave a grim smile. Careful to avoid the glass, she pulled her sleeves tightly around her arms and hands and ducked her head while wedging through the window. The smoke stung her eyes and she pulled her shirt closer around her face, covering her nose. Her feet blindly shuffled onto the ledge above the stalls, knocking over an empty bottle of insecticide spray into the flames. Kuki winced as she heard the can crash onto the tiled floor and jumped off the ledge, careful to land away from the flames by the sink and immediately dropped onto the floor in a crawl.

"_Stay to the ground, where the smoke can't be found..."_ she found herself chanting the elementary school verse, her eyes stinging, and her sleeves torn by the glass from the window. Her eyes frantically scanned the floor for any signs of Wally, but avoided calling out to him in fear of inhaling the smoke. Fear and responsibility thundered around her temples, her head throbbing with the sounds of the fire. Time itself seemed to slow to a lethargic drawl, the flames flickering in suspended animation.

She kept close to the ground when suddenly she found herself kneeling in front of Wally, who was huddled into an unconscious orange lump near the sink. Without ascertaining his wellness she slung him under her arm easily, for he wasn't very heavy. _"The trick is,"_ she thought to herself despondently, _"How do we get out?"_ The door was blocked, obviously, and the window was too high up—only if she were to climb back atop the ledge would she be able to reach it. _"Darn, I didn't think about this..."_ Kuki wiped the sweat from her forehead, her green sleeves dark with soot, and glanced at the burning door.

It was then an abrupt stream of water jetted through the cracks in the crumbling wooden door, sending its charred remnants disintegrating into the fire. A light shone—Kuki thought—reminding her of a scene from the movies, and in the doorway stood Nigel, hose in hand, looking quite heroic and at the same time comical. Kick, Hoagie, and Abby were close behind, throwing sand onto the nearby flames as Nigel continued to spray down the flames; everyone was yelling soundless exclamations drowned out by the fire. Feeling a bubbling surge of relief, Kuki fumbled over to the doorway out into the sunlight and carefully placed Wally on the ground before sprawling herself onto the dirt in exhaustion.

Fran hurried over, her face deeply set in the wrinkles on her face. She cast Kuki an appreciative smile and turned her attention to Wally. Kuki dimly returned the grin, smiling up at the sky as she rolled over on her side and took a deep breath of air. It felt good to be alive.

* * *

"Tommy...Tommy! WAKE UP!!!"

He bolted upright in his seat, sending his head crashing into the ceiling. "Wha—?" Tommy stifled a yawn and glanced up at Mushi.

With a threatening glare, her fists buried amidst the folds of her shirtsleeves against her hips, she stared down at him reproachfully. "I thought you _died_! How did you manage to sleep through all that noise?!"

Tommy blinked hazily and scratched the side of his head. Where were they? "Wha...?" he repeated again and stared back in confusion.

Numbers 38 and 39 leaned over the backs of their seats to face him. "Sleep well, eh?" Number 39 chirruped, the pot sliding over his freckled nose. "Yeh can get up now; we've reached headquartehs."

"Headquarters?!" Tommy exclaimed. He blinked again in surprise—he must have fallen asleep while riding in the **R**.**O**.**D**.**E**.**N**.**T**. He leaned over and peered out the cockpit windows. Nothing but a wall of rocks and darkness loomed ahead. "I don't see anything. Are you sure?"

"Yeah, we're here alroight," the elder, Number 38 replied. He unbuckled his seatbelt and punched a square orange button on the control panel.

Instantly a cool feminine recorded voice sounded over the tinny intercom. _"Please enter your access code."_

"Lamingtons," Number 38 answered and scratched his nose.

"Eh...." Number 39 glanced warily at his older brother and twisted the handle on his pot. "Ah f'get meh password," he meekly replied.

Number 38 groaned. "Yeh favorite food, remember?"

Number 39's face lit up and he flashed an awkward, toothy grin. "Ah yeah! Ah remember!" He cleared his throat and straightened his back in the seat with self-prominence. "BEANS!" he proclaimed proudly. A mechanical whirr sounded and the rock barrier in front of the **R**.**O**.**D**.**E**.**N**.**T**. cleared away, revealing a steel-plated automatic door that whisked open after a series of clangs.

"Cool..." Mushi whistled. "Just like in the movies..." she grinned and Tommy returned the smile. He didn't have the heart to tell her that automated doors were nothing compared to some of the technology he'd seen his brother work on. Besides, she had been up in some of the aircraft before so this wasn't that new to her, he figured.

"Hey, didn't yeh guys go up ta' visit the Moon Base?" Number 39 asked curiously. "If yeh thought _that_ wuz cool, wait till yeh getta load o'this place. Ah went here once before with 38 an' it was so coooooool...." He sighed and his eyes glazed over as he fondly dwelled on the memory.

The machine moved through the doors on an unseen conveyor belt and halted in front of a steel staircase. The cockpit opened and Number 38 undid 39's seatbelt. "Yeh guys ready to go? We've gotta report ta Numbah 112 so she can give us directions."

Mushi and Tommy nodded in unison, quickly forgetting about their luggage and excitedly jumped out of the robot to follow the two Aussie escorts up the stairs.

"So, what do yeh guys think they're gonna have yeh do?" Number 38 asked politely to stimulate conversation.

"Uh..." Mushi and Tommy exchange nervous glances. They hadn't exactly discussed that yet. "We're not quite sure," she answered honestly.

Number 38 nodded in approval. "Yeah, tryin' ta figure out wot the head's plannin' is pretty tricky. Numbah 112's no jelly kneed, yeh know."

Number 39 grinned and his pot slovenly fell in front of his eyes. "Mm-hmm! Loike the time she kicked me in the daks cuz Ah wuzn't pushin' the roight button," he added as though it were a formidable achievement.

"Yeah, well, tha's only because yeh were pushing the detonation button, yeh drongo!"

"Oh yeah...Ah forgot about that."

Tommy winced. He knew Numbers 38 and 39 were amateurs, or at least 39 was since he was newly inaugurated, but whatever respect he held for the two brothers was quickly diminishing.

Number 39 quickly shrugged off his embarrassment and tipped his pot atop the bridge of his nose. "So how come yeh not with the rest o' yeh group?" He passed a mischievous grin. "How come yeh two are travelin' _together_? Ah thought we'd be seein' Numbahs One an' Five on accounta them bein' the boss an' second in command."

Tommy furrowed his brows in confusion. "Um....well, er, you see....that's because..."

Number 39 raised his eyebrows from behind the pot. "Eh? Yeh can tell meh; Ah keep _secrets_." Number 38 rolled his eyes and made a disagreable cough.

"Ah, well, it's no secret, really," Mushi casually declared and dramatically swept her hand to the side and gave Tommy a hearty slap on the back. He stared at her in shock. "You see, Number Two and I are pretty close." She cast Number 39 a playfully surreptitious grin and patted Tommy on the back again, much to his burning discomfort.

"Oooh, _Ah_ see," Number 39 replied and returned the grin, glancing at Tommy as he did so. "Don' mind meh then." He gave Tommy a thumbs-up and continued up the staircase. Tommy felt his face burn with embarrassment and confusion. What had Mushi meant by that? Was she serious? And most of all: _why did he care_? He scowled at his blushing face in hopeless bewilderment and hoped no one else saw.

"Ah, here we are," Number 38 exclaimed as the reached the top of the staircase. The doors slid open upon his vocal activation and the group found themselves face-to-face with a very stern looking girl with a decorated hemp basket on her head and a mismatched pair of overalls and a tie-dye t-shirt.

"Where have yeh two been? Ah thought yeh'd be back by now," she glared dourly at Number 39 and turned her attention to 38, her frown melting into a friendly smile. "Ah bet yeh brother wuz causin' yeh trouble again, roight Numbah 38?"

Number 38 shrugged uninterestedly. "Not really, Numbah 112. We ran into a mess at the airport, but we fixed it up. Numbah 39's not really much of a cactus—he's still learnin' though."

Number 112 frowned, her rumpled auburn hair oddly sticking out from underneath the basket. "Ah still think he's more trouble than he's worth," she glared. Number 39 gazed up at her from underneath his pot headgear with adulation, his eyes sparkling in awe. She gave him an unfriendly cold glance and gestured to Tommy and Mushi. "Ah bet yeh two are pooped. Ah'll fill yeh in on the details later; let's get yeh fed first. We've got plenty o' lamingtons an' dogs eye if yeh're feelin' peckish."

"'Dogs eye'?" Mushi cried vehemently and hastily drew away from Number 112.

"It's a type o' meat pie—really tasty," Number 112 grinned at the disgusted reactions from Tommy and Mushi. "But don't worry; we've got plenty o' candy too, so eat up!"

* * *

"Ah really apologize. Ah had no idea it was such a hazard," Kick bowed humbly and shook his head in disgrace. "If only Ah knew, Fran. Really," he sighed.

Fran shrugged and Kick shook his head dejectedly. "No one's hurt, yeh goon. How were yeh supposed t'know the dunny was going ta burst in flames? Ah'm not blamin' yeh, so don't get yeh daks in a bundle." Kick groaned guiltily and Phyllis pursed her thin lips in dislike.

Wally sat against the rock he had sat at earlier, telling Nigel and Kuki his story about the bunyip and his grandfather. It all seemed so long ago. His mind wandered to his jarringly realistic dream and he shuddered. It was too real to be a dream, but what did it mean? He ran his hand through his rumpled hair and winced; some of the ends were charred. "Ah look loike ah mess," he groaned and stared at his feet. Only one shoe remained; the other he had attempted to use to extinguish the flames had been lost in the fire.

The station's restroom building was surprisingly in good condition, and the group had managed to put out most of the flames with the hose, or at least that's what Wally had been told since he had been unconscious through the entire dilemna. Hoagie walked over to Wally, his aviation goggles still speckled in soot, and sat next to him by the rock. "Hey, are you doing okay?"

"Yeah, Ah guess so. Didn' see that comin'," Wally replied half-heartedly and frowned as he pulled out some ashes from his hair.

Hoagie rubbed his goggles to clear the soot. "If I had a joke to tell you I would, but I can't think of anything funny to say," he commented and gave Wally a modest grin.

Wally shrugged. "It coulda been worse. At least it was only meh an' not any o' the others."

Hoagie stared at Wally in confusion. "You mean you didn't know?"

"Wot?"

"About Kuki?"

"Kuki?" Wally cast Hoagie a panicky glance. "Wot happened to Kuki? She didn' go in there did she?" He asked, half-yelling. A sticky wave of guilt passed over him—the last he'd seen of Kuki he hadn't been very nice to her.

Hoagie raised his eyebrows. "I guess Fran didn't tell you yet. That's odd..." he trailed off in amusement as he watched Wally fumble with the drawstrings on his hoodie in infuriated frustration.

"Well?! Are yeh gonna tell me or wot?!"

Hoagie paused, relishing in Wally's interest. _"If only I had a joke...this would be perfect!"_ He sighed. "You see—"

"She didn't; yeh know..." Wally's face fell.

Hoagie gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. "Lucky you! Kuki saved your _butt_, man! If it hadn't been for her you'd be barbeque!"

Wally sat in stunned stupor until it sunk in. He bit his lip and glared at Hoagie. "Well why didn't you jus' _tell_ meh?!"

Hoagie's grin widened. "Aw, I was just having some fun. She's tired after all—Kuki, I mean. She's off in the snack shack with Abby." His grin hardened and his face grew serious. "We were really scared. That fire was dangerous and she ran off without telling anyone." He cast a glance over at Kick, who was continuing his rambling apology to Fran and Phyllis. "To tell you the truth, I was pretty scared myself. From the looks of this place I wouldn't have been surprised if Kick didn't bother to keep around any hoses, but I was wrong. Good thing Nigel saw them."

Wally nodded dumbly, the guilt still washing over him uncomfortably. "By the way, where _is_ Nigel?"

"Over by the restrooms checking them out. Who knows what he's doing. I looked it over and the fire seemed like an accident to me," Hoagie shrugged. He snapped his clean goggles back in place and hastily jumped up from the rock. "Hey, Abby," he grinned.

Abby and Kuki walked over to the rock, both still slightly sooty from the fire. Kuki's face was scratched on one side, but she appeared to be in good spirits. "How ya' feelin' Wally?" Abby asked and gave him a thumbs-up.

"Okay, Ah guess," he returned the grin weakly. "Hey, uh, Kuki....erm....sorry about earlier an' all," he began and brushed out the remaining ashes from his hair.

Kuki blinked in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Yeh know...Ah didn't mean t'get mad at yeh," Wally replied uneasily and averted his gaze away from her, his face turning red.

Kuki shrugged. "Oh, that's okay!" She beamed and waved her messy sleeves in the air. "I know you weren't really mad."

Abby and Hoagie exchanged grins. "Speakin' of which, _Hoagie_," Abby cast a treacherous glare at Hoagie and placed her fists on her hips. "Do ya have any idea what might've happened to my _chilidog_? You know, the one I was going to _eat_ earlier?"

"Er...not a clue," Hoagie replied, turning faintly pink.

"Reaaaally.... I see," Abby replied, obviously unconvinced. "Why don't you come with me to buy another one, huh?"

Hoagie grinned awkwardly. "Um...sure," he answered and turned towards the snack shack.

Nigel walked over to the rock and watched Hoagie and Abby leave. He cast Wally a sympathetic glance. "How are you feeling? Your grandmother says we'll be leaving soon. Apparently your uncle's house isn't much further and he's arranged to have some guests over to meet you."

"Ah, okay then."

Nigel frowned and continued to stare pensively.

"Wot? Is there sumthin' on meh face? Cuz Ah probably look loike a wreck roight now anyways."

His friend shrugged apologetically. "It's nothing. Let's get going."

Wally and Kuki exchanged glances. "All right," Kuki replied and skipped over to the jeep, peering over her shoulder momentarily as she left.

"Oh, Ah see," Wally commented, realizing that Nigel wanted to talk with him alone. "What's on yeh mind?"

"Wally...that fire..."

"Yeah?"

"It might have not been an accident."

Wally staggered in shock. "Wot are yeh talkin' about? How could it 'ave _not_ been an accident?"

Nigel lowered his shades and gave Wally a grim stare. "Did you notice anything odd about the restrooms when you went in? Try to remember."

"Uh..." Wally scratched his head. "Lesse...well, it wuz pretty dirty."

"That's to be expected, of course. Anything else?"

"The mirrors were cracked....an' it smelled pretty bad too..."

"What did it smell like?"

"Erm...kinda loike gasoline."

Nigel's face went dark. "I thought so."

"Wot's wrong with that? This _is _a gas station. Kick probably had a spill or sumthin'," Wally protested lackadaisically. He didn't like where the conversation was heading.

"I highly doubt it. Though Kick may appear messy, he's actually quite organized. I had no difficulty finding where he stored the emergency hose." Nigel replied and lowered his voice as he continued. "Do you remember who filled up the gas tank for the jeep?"

"Yeh're not serious are yeh??" Wally cried in horror. "Phyllis.... Phyllis filled up the jeep, but only because.... because..."

"Because she offered to, right?" Nigel finished.

Wally shook his head in disbelief. "Look, Ah hate Phyllis just as much as yeh, but Ah don't think meh uncle's secretary would try an' murder me."

Nigel shrugged. "You know your uncle better than I do, so my judgment isn't as accurate, but I've distrusted that adult since we first met her." He dug his hand into his khaki pockets, bringing out a rumpled plastic bag. "I found this near the wastebasket by the restrooms. Do you know what this is?"

"Dirt?" Wally asked incredulously and studied the brown flakes in the bag.

"Tobacco. Cigarette tobacco. The only one who smokes, if I'm not mistaken, is Phyllis. I think there's more to this trip than we're aware of."

* * *

**A/N**: This definitely wasn't my greatest chapter--it was much too wordy in the middle. You'll have to excuse the gaping plot holes. To say that they managed to extinguish the fire with a hose is stretching the point a bit, plus I'm interested in _how_ Nigel recognized the tobaccoo...hm....

Plus, I know this has been kind of dragging, as far as the plot goes. But I've the remainder of the plot sketched out and a pretty good idea as to where the rest of the story's going to go--plus a few new characters, (I know, I know. I'm trying not to make any more) but I'd appreciate and suggestions and ideas. Thanks!


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